


Wilhelmina Outworlder: A Modern Girl in Skyrim

by Julie5



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Mary Sue, Modern Girl in Skyrim, Modern Girl in Tamriel, Modern Girl in the Elder Scrolls, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24515944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie5/pseuds/Julie5
Summary: Wilhelmina Jones faded from a world on the brink of annihilation and woke up in another she only knew from a video game. Holy Crap!
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas
Comments: 60
Kudos: 148





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I always wanted to write one of these and since I have read them all... repeatedly... In multiple universes (I don't have a problem you have a problem)! I thought I would try to write a Modern Girl in Skyrim. No promises I will finish but I will try. This is a blatant self insert and a blatant possible Mary sue because fuck boundaries I do what I want. Don't come to me expecting Tolkien and end up with Eric Carle I make no claim to being any sort of writing professional. This is Wilhelmina Jones and my play through of her in Skyrim.

Chapter 1

Will was just your typical preschool teacher/ college student. At twenty-seven she worked a nine hour shift Monday thru Friday and she spent much of her off hours doing online coursework for college. Any free-time she could squeeze out of work was spent playing video games. She rented a shed in the downtown district mere blocks from the preschool where she taught, room enough for a bed, a mini fridge and her gaming rig which pulled double duty for her educational work. The set up cost $750 a month but utilities were included. Willhelmina Jones- Will, as she was known to her friends, worked hard, played hard and rarely partied- but when she did, she partied hard. There was nothing special about her, not really. She was an A+ student and always had been because learning came easy to her, it was people that were hard. Life and living was hard. She was not plain but she was also not exceptionally pretty. She had red hair and blue eyes and stood at 5’6”, she was a bit chunky around the middle but exercise hurt and sweating was gross. She swam a lot in the summer months then slacked off and ate junk food the rest of the year. Will was just average. Normal. 

So what happened to her made no sense at all. After the virus and then the riots and then the worldwide protests tensions between the U.S. and its allies heightened. China, North Korea, Iran and Russia took advantage of the lack of good will toward the U.S. to ignore multiple treaty restrictions which escalated in a few short months to the missile launch in August. The U.S.A intelligence organizations and news media knew ahead of time so the U.S. launched it’s own nukes, but there was no way the failing world power would be able to stop all the bombs already aiming for them. It was mutually self assured destruction. Armageddon. The end of the human race most likely. Will did not have a car and in Florida there was no public transportation. She traveled where she needed to by walking, biking, or snagging an occasional Uber. 

Besides, the roads were jammed. Rioters were going insane mere blocks from where she sat at waterfront park. Will just watched the way the sun danced on the lake waiting for the inevitable end of all things. She studiously avoided looking at the couple fucking buck ass naked on the end of the pier. It was the end of the world. Who was she to judge?

Will didn’t remember dying. 

She remembered the shock and dread when listening to the news. She remembered the sadness she felt when she realized no one would mourn her and she would die alone on a park bench. She had no family that she was aware of having aged out of the foster system years ago. That hurt. But the dying, she did not remember that at all.

She awoke to a canopy of green overhead. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse and her mouth was dry. She sat up confused. How did she end up in the woods? She looked around discovering her backpack sitting next to her. She opened it and pulled out a water bottle. Swish. Spit. Swish, swallow.

She looked down at herself in confusion. She was dressed the same as she had been when she had been in the park. Dressed in a pair of tennis shoes, dark blue jeans and her ex-boyfriend’s gray Skyrim shirt celebrating vampires; it was as if she had been removed from the park bench and plopped in the middle of the woods. She stood, putting her back pack on and began hesitantly walking forward. Okay, so she only had the one bottle of water and it was half empty. The sun was not ‘summer in Florida hot’ but thirst would be a problem- particularly since Will considered herself part amphibian; she drank a LOT of water.

First step then is to find water and maybe a trail or another human. It was creepy being alone in the woods. She remembered reading that if you get lost in the wilderness head downhill when searching for water. She hoped it was good advice because that was what she did. She moved through the woods trying not to freak out over every sound. She almost pissed herself when a huge reindeer came barreling out of the woods right next to her. She did scream a little and run. Panting, out of breath, and shaking, she jumped yet again when a goat bleated at her just ahead. A goat for Christ’s sake! It glared balefully at her before trotting off.

“Fuuuuck.” She whispered. “I am not meant for this country life.” Will was trying really hard not to freak out, for the most part she was doing pretty good. Ahead she saw an odd piece of architecture and hurried over to it. It was some kind of ruined balcony that seemed to be built right out of the cliff and it overlooked a large swath of the wooded valley she found herself in. Will craned her neck from side to side, hoping to see a path or city or anything really! But it was just more woods. 

She crouched down in front of the statue, the stone work was detailed, smooth to the touch, a contrast of deep purple and light lavender. It looked like a dragon wrapped around an egg and eating a sword.

“No way!” She tried to move it, but the statue was holding fast to the balcony. “This looks just like a shrine of Akatosh from Skyrim.” There were two books next to the statue. She picked up one of them. It felt strange in her hands the cover was rougher than she thought a books cover would be. As she turned the pages they were thicker, uneven, and the lettering looked hand written rather than printed. 

Had she run afoul of a LARP convention? She put the books in her backpack and made her way further into the valley. A few minutes later she smelled barbecue and her stomach grumbled appreciatively. The flood of relief was almost instantaneous and her legs wobbled as if her body was telling her you can relax and freak out at the same time. People! Where there was food there would be human contact! She followed her nose and hoped whoever it was would be generous and spare some food because it smelled divine and she was, she realized, ravenous!

Pushing through the trees she stopped short. Orbs of ice and silver gazed in horrified confusion at the chaos spread before her. Will could not understand what she was seeing. Objectively, she saw an overturned wagon, two dead bodies, and two dead horses; but emotionally she could not or would not comprehend. The delicious smell of charred pork was the human remains.

The delicious smell of charred pork was the human remains.

The delicious smell of charred pork was the human remains. 

She vomited. She was grateful for the dry heaves that accompanied the retching because it gave her a reason to look away from the burning corpses. There were whimpers and she found her face wet with tears. She couldn’t quite stand back up and just crawled away from the fire. There was a whining sound, like a puppy that had been locked in the bathroom and it took her a while to figure out the sound was coming from her. Will did not know how long she sat there but the sun was moving overhead, her head was throbbing, stomach aching, and she was terrified.

She wanted to run away, but some instinct made her creep closer to the wagon. Survival, in the woods, alone with murdering arsonists would be difficult without food, water, or some means of defending herself. She refused to die here! She ignored the human remains opting instead to rifle through the crates and sacks. She found 4 apples, a pair of boots, some rolled up clothes that looked like they were made for a Renaissance fair, a rain hood made of some kind of cloth and four coins of some kind. There was also a water skin but it was empty. Without a backward glance Will fled the area heading downward into the wilderness once more. 

Her mind still struggled to reconcile what she had seen with her life experience and utterly rejected it. A litany of no’s issued from her parched and chapped lips as she continued to blithely push through bush and scrub.

“Nononononononononononono!” Each jarring step deeper into the valley, beneath trees so tall they at times blocked out the sky, leaving only dapples of shadow and light to illuminate the space between foliage, elicited a rising and falling cadence of vocal denials that became a comforting mantra as she moved. Brambles scratched at her legs. Rough bark from trees with trunks as wide around as a pickup truck scraped painfully across her fingers. This too was ignored as the wilderness swallowed up the scene of carnage behind her and pulled her deeper into it wild embrace.

Trotting on, a distinctly unnatural shape began to grow in size and distinction, a grayish white conglomeration of stone pillars thrusting up from the ground like mountainous fingers from the loamy earth . It was a building of some kind- no wait, it was ruins. She let out a terrified but frustrated mewl. Buildings meant people, but ruins did not! As she crept closer, a man leapt out at her at the same time as she saw what looked like more human remains laid out on an alter of some kind.

“Never should have come here!” The man yelled. 

As she simultaneously shouted “Oh what the fucking fuck!” 

She did not even stop to see if the man responded she noped a hard left and sprinted as fast as she could away from him. Away from there. Away from the bloody remains splayed out on an alter amid some unknown ruins in the deep dark woods. Her mind was reeling. This couldn’t be happening! This could not be real! She was breathless, but afraid to stop. She was in agony, jogging in spite of the stitch in her side. Her shins ached and her thighs burned. She was so tired; but she dared not stop! Arsonists, Satan worshipers, dead bodies and reindeer! It was just too damn much. 

Dread was her constant companion, a sense only heightened the further she went. There was a smell of rotting meat and she just knew it was going to be more dead bodies. What the hell?! Was she dropped off in some kind of wilderness retreat for serial killers? She was too terrified to make any noise and too upset to stop crying so she kept emitting these uncontrolled, half-choked, whisper-hiccups. She wiped her nose on the back of her arm already filthy and covered in dirt, scratches, and now snot and- was that ash! Ash consisting of burned up dead bodies! The shuddering hiccups peaked and she covered her mouth to try to silence herself. 

Squeezing between two large trees she stumbled and tripped down a mud caked embankment to sprawl before another hidden ruin. This one appeared so suddenly she had no chance to react. One second she was jogging through the trees and the mud and the next- a ruined rotunda blocked the way forward. Maybe she could rest there. Having a wall to her back and a building to hunker down in and have a good cry, away from the beasts and the crazies, would be a relief. She cautiously approached the building. It was made of stone. Looked like one piece, colonnaded glassless windows had been carved from the stone and the entire building was polished smooth. She found the door- but blocking it was the dead body she had smelled. Next to the body were some kind of clawed weapons that reminded her of Freddy Kruger. Will grabbed them up and had just begun backing away when a sound like the buzzing of a swarm of bees filled the air.

“Oh fuck!” She gasped. Bolting to the side she ran again. She did not know if it was a hornets nest or a murdering bee monster but she was not sticking around to find out. She ran until she collapsed. She got up and ran some more, whimpering and crying and swearing. She spent the better part of what seemed like hours stumbling through the forest. Her headache had gotten worse, she was no longer going down hill, that plan having been abandoned since the human sacrificing cultist had tried to make her his next victim. She was thirsty, her water was gone. She’d eaten one of the apples she had found, but it was slightly sour and not very wet. She remembered reading about people who got lost in the woods, how they chose one direction and stuck to it. How their remains were found years later because they had just gone deeper into the forest further from civilization because woods could stretch for miles without ever intersecting humanity. She was long past crying just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Never before had she thought that bird songs could sound threatening but every tweet and warble, every broken crack of branch or twig, every coo and call, the flutter of wings, the buzzing of insects, all sounded threatening, felt ominous.

She trudged forth in a daze of hyper-vigilance and paranoia that alternated with a haze of dehydration, exhaustion and disbelief. The fire. The bodies. The deranged psycho playing in human remains. How did she get here? Where was here? Her mind kept returning to that shrine but shied away from accepting the impossible. 

What she knew, was the destruction of the world had been imminent. Escape was impossible, roads were impassible, people had been going crazy. Her last memory before waking up was sitting at the lakefront on that bench next to a local park near where she lived, waiting for the missiles to hit. How did she get in these woods full of crazy people and dead bodies?

“Come we must move quickly if we are to reach the campsite before nightfall.” The voice was a balm to her despairing soul.

“H-hello? Please- please help me!” Will crashed through the trees towards the voice, stumbling onto a worn cobbled path amidst the trees.Her voice was cracked and hoarse and she coughed to clear her throat. She tripped to a halt as she took in the sight if three women, two armed to the teeth with an eclectic array of weapons creatively and strategically placed on their persons. The two women in armor pointed two very real looking swords in her direction and Will instinctively threw her hands up in a gesture of pacification.

“Who are you?” Growled one of the women assessing her for threat and obviously determining she was not one when she pointedly looked toward her fellow armored companion and put away the huge blade she wielded.

“I- my name is Willhelmina Jones- Will to my friends. I don’t know how, but I got lost in these woods. There’s crazy people and dead bodies in there and I think some killer bees and I’m lost and so thirsty. Where am I? Can you help me find the nearest town or- or loan me your cell phone so I can call… call the police?” 

Will suspected none of the women had a cell phone but she was trying to be rational, trying to make everything make sense even though two of the women were dressed in armor and one in that coat and cap the merchants always wore in Skyrim.

“Well, Will, I know not what a a cell phone is but we can help you. Rilla, pass her your water skin.” The other woman was already lifting the strap over her head and passing it to Will. “I’m Cylfina and this is Rillithia- Cylla and Rilla to our friends.”

“Ladies I’m not paying you to fraternize with every vagrant wanderer we pass.” The other lady commented in a bored tone. She looked displeased and impatient.

“It can’t hurt to stop and offer a bit of compassion for a few moments. This woman has obviously been through an ordeal.” Cylfina called back before returning her attention to Will. “If you follow this road back the way we came it will take you to Riverwood, just follow the path until you reach Lake Ilinalta and keep following it as close to the lake as you can. It might take you a couple of hours but it is much closer than Falkreath, where we are going.”

“Riverwood. Falkreath.” There was a rushing roar in her ears and the world tilted sideways.She had passed out right? Thats what people did in stories or on TV when the shock became too much? So this was what it was like to be passed out. Hmm. She was still aware. Still thinking. Maybe she was not quite all the way passed out. She opened her eyes. Will found herself staring up into the concerned faces of the two women. It was then that she noticed their ears. And their brow ridges. And she had been trying very, very hard not to notice their brow ridges.

“Fuuuuck.” She breathed. If she had any more moisture she was sure she would be crying. Her chest felt tight and she was having difficulty catching her breath. These were elves, Bosmeri elves judging by their color. If this was not the most elaborate LARP event on one of the biggest sets she had ever seen Will was in Skyrim.

“Here,” Rilla offered in concern, holding a small bottle full of green liquid to her lips. “This should help get you back on your feet.” Will drank greedily. She was surprised how quickly her head cleared and life seemed to rush back to all her limbs.

“Th-thank you. You guys have been so kind to me.” Will darted a glance at the merchant who was obviously unhappy at the delay. She would not even glance at where Will lay instead her eyes scanning the distance as if she could conjure Falkreath from the horizon line through sheer discontent alone. Cylla helped Will get to her feet.

“Here take this, a snack for the road and a few septims for some food at the inn when you get to Riverwood.” Will took the proffered dried meat and coins with a grateful smile. Rilla tossed her one concerned backwards frown as the three ladies departed but left her standing in the road and eventually the trio of ladies disappeared from sight.

Will was on her own- but she had food and directions to a water source and a town, and that meant people who did not want to kill her. She was full of renewed vigor from what she assumed was a stamina potion. It was difficult to process where she thought she was with no idea how it happened; but falling to the ground in incredulous and despairing disbelief would only get her dead. Will followed the road. She passed a few dead wolves and shuddered, glad someone else had killed them. In the distance she saw a person on horseback but they turned off into the trees. Will kept a steady pace, her feet finding the path with more confidence than the run through the woods. As the path wound around it did indeed pass Lake Ilinalta and Will could only gaze in wonder at what had always only been the scenery of a video game. 

It was past midday, the sky was a vibrant blue sparkling off the clear waters of the lake. She filled her waterskin so she would have something to drink. She glanced around then began digging through her backpack. She usually kept a swimsuit in there, aha! She pulled out an old brown bikini she had picked up from a thrift store near where she worked and changed as quickly as she could, nervously glancing toward the road.

Once changed she waded out into the icy waters of the lake. The water did not have the tainted tannic scent of lakes like she was used to in Florida. The water had no scent at all in fact- unless one considered cold a scent. She grabbed gravel from the rocky bottom and began scrubbing her arms and legs working off the dirt, sweat, snot, and ash.. She dipped below the surface of the water and swam deeper into the lake letting the water rinse her clean before returning to the shore. She tugged on her shorts and threw her top over her swimsuit and walked barefoot on the trail beside the lake. She stopped short when she saw something unexpected. A campsite with three tents, a large wagon covered in shields evidence that though it was abandoned now the inhabitants could not be far. 

Will crept closer curious as to what she was looking at, nothing in Skyrim the game had prepared her to see anything like this. A horse was at the head of the wagon munching some hay. There were fish, some already gutted and drying on a rack others in the middle of the process lay next to a fishing pole. Each of the tents had a knapsack in them. Had she stumbled onto a hunters camp? It would make sense that the world of Skyrim would differ in many ways from the game of Skyrim. The cart though was covered in spiked shields. What could it possibly be for? She let the campfire dry her and then pulled back on her boots looking around for anyone. There was still no sign of the people who had set up the camp. She bit her lip.

Okay, so stealing was wrong but she was in a different world and life was cheap. No one was around and she needed money for food, shelter, clothing to blend in with the locals. If anyone came up on her while she was robbing the campsite they would be well within their rights to kill her. She did it anyway. Survival first, scruples last. She found some leather clothes that were heavy, they were covered in leather studs and felt like metal plates had been sewn in the lining. Armor meant to look like clothes. She took it. In another she found an orange and a kiwi. In the last she found a severed and shrunken head.

“And I’m done.” Will shoved the head back in the pack and took off down the road. She alternatively walked and jogged every hundred steps to put as much distance between herself and the campsite. The path ended up leading away from the lake and uphill but Will was pretty sure she knew it would wend it’s way back down again as, at this point she kind of knew where she was. A few minutes later her supposition proved correct as the three standing stones came into view when the path began winding back downhill. 

She went immediately to the warrior stone. She touched it. Nothing happened. She bowed her head and made a wish.

“Please help me get stronger!” There was a soft whooshing sound and a warm shiver spread from her chest to her spine. Okay so now she would be able to learn fighting skills faster? That’s how it was supposed to work in the game anyway. She trotted on and as she walked she worried about the wolf pack that always hung out by Riverwood. There was no Ralof or other dude to help her out and she had no weapon. She decided if she couldn’t get away from them she would leap into the river and let the current carry her downstream to the town. She needn’t have worried though. Three wolves lay dead next to a dead man and a horse. Her eyes were goggles of disbelief.

“Unbefuckinglievable. I’ve seen more dead bodies today than I have seen over the course of my entire life!” She mumbled this to herself as she gingerly checked the guy for supplies or weapons. He had a dagger, a couple of septims, and lock pick all of which she took. A sword lay at his side covered in gore but she decided not to take it. It was gross! She looked up at the horse speculatively.

“I don’t suppose you have an owner anymore do you?” She took the horse by the reins and led him- her? She glanced down- no penis, definitely a her. She led her away from the carnage. She was no horsewoman but Will had ridden some of the trails of Florida with friends, she could manage to ride fairly easily. She grasped the saddle horn and put her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up and onto the horse.

“Alright, I think I’m going to call you Serendipity because- facts, am I right girl?” Will chortled at her own joke and began walking the horse down the path to Riverwood. Then she bumped the walk up to a trot. The landscape seemed to whiz by now. Coming to Skyrim was impossible. It was traumatic. But she had only been here a day and she had food, water, money and a horse. As the daylight began to fade Will breathed a sigh of relief as Riverwood came into sight. At least she would not be sleeping out doors. She wondered if the love triangle would be a thing in real life since Skyrim was now her real life. She frowned. Skyrim was not a stay at the Four Seasons. How would she survive? 

*****So when I went back to reload saves and take the screenshots I discovered I could have looted that camp and gotten gems and stormcloak plans. Poor Will, that could have set her up nicely for a while. But you can't go back in time and I only reloaded to get those screen shots. Please don't mind her boobs I am terrible with bodyslide and can't figure out how to shrink them in those particular outfits, I did manage to take out the jiggles. So many pervs playing skyrim I jogged in front of the mirror to see if my boobs would jiggle like the animations- not even close.**** 2/28 so I am loving the graphics of my heavily modded Skyrim SE I don't know if I can go back to LE so I am replaying the beginning of Will's adventure, I learned how to take out the boob jiggle and change outfit bodies in bodyslide I uploaded a new pic of Will on this chapter


	2. Chapter 2 Riverwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With basic survival needs met Will struggles with the enormity of being all that is left of her world even as she is forced to find a way to live in this one. Luckily Skyrim is full of more than murderers and arsonists. It has good people with kind hearts. Unfortunately it needs more jobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So would you believe chapters 1 and 2 were only about a half hour of game play and a single page of notes? I am really trying to write Will as relatable should anyone of us magically fall into Skyrim. I'm not saying she won't end up an overpowered icon of female badassery I mean she is the dragonborn and I have warned this is a Mary sue self insert so if you are reading you can't act surprised but I wanted to put myself in that headspace of being all that's left and it was shockingly super depressing and dark. Imagine if you will that you were all that remains of anything Earth. Yeah our history as a species has a lot of grim dark awfulness but we have a lot of beauty that we have created that has inspired more beauty and wonder and our loss when it happens would be a tragedy. I mean Disney songs alone are a world treasure! I hope I was able to convey the mood I wanted while moving the story forward. Orgnar surprised me. But I remember when my dad died it was like my world ended and human contact was really important in healing and Orgnar was right there.

Chapter 2

  
As she cantered into town the streets were clear of people except for the kid playing with his dog and the chicken she was definitely NOT going to kill. She dismounted in front of the Sleeping Giant Inn, tying her horse to the post in front of it and pushed her way in. The Inn was warm and smoky, a huge fire pit in the center of the room kept everything toasty. Rough wooden walls and smooth well sanded floors reminded Will of a hunting lodge. Not that she had ever seen a real hunting lodge before. This was what she rather imagined a hunting lodge to look like. There were people at all the tables, the chairs were filled and the bard was playing. It got a little quieter when she walked in, Will could feel the curious gazes of the patrons heating up her back. It was her clothes, she thought. It had to be her clothes; they showed a lot of skin. While playing the game Skyrim had not seemed full of prudish puritanical mores but the women in the vanilla game wore long dresses that covered their legs and- she thought- covered the arms as well. Her shorts and tank top definitely made her stick out, but Will headed to the bar, keeping her head down.

“Umm, excuse me, I need a room for the night.”

“That’ll be ten septims lass, 15 to include a bath or 20 for bath and dinner.” 

“I only have ten septims, but I do have this ring.” The barkeeper plucked the ring from her hand studying it thoughtfully.

“You can get a lot more that twenty septims for this. I tell you what, I’m no trader or merchant but I’ll hang onto it for you. You chop some firewood tomorrow to pay off your debt and I’ll return the ring to you then.” 

“Thank you sir!”

“The name’s Orgnar, let me show you to your room.” He led her to a small room where she gratefully plopped her back pack down. He eyed it and her curiously. “You’re not from around here are you lass?” Will grinned wryly up at him through eyes heavy with exhaustion, for he was taller than her by a good six inches. 

“What gave it away?”

“Your clothes, that accent and the strange bag you have. I don’t reckon I’ve seen another like it. What’s it made of?” Will shrugged.

“I’m not sure. Cotton, nylon, maybe hemp.” Orgnar stared lingeringly mouthing the word nylon, before gesturing her to follow him. He led her to a trap door at the back of the bar.

“This here leads down to the washroom. Soap is an extra 5 septims but you can keep the bar you use, it’s not fancy like the ones you can get from the Riverwood Trader, but it gets the job done and lasts more than one wash. Come to the bar when you get hungry.” He walked away leaving Will torn between the desire for a bath and a yearning for dinner. She decided to get her things and take a bath first. She had to climb down a ladder. There was a large steaming wooden tub full of semi-clean water. She had a brief worry that others had bathed in the same water, but it was mostly clean, and it was warm, so she ignored her misgivings, stripped, and climbed in. A delighted moan escaped her as she lowered herself completely into the water. She let herself float in the middle of the tub. 

She was safe. She had been met with killers and corpses but she had also been met with kindness and luck. She could handle this, whatever this was. She sat up languorously and floated over to the edge of the tub where a basket of unused soaps and linens rested. She pulled out a red bar and sniffed it, the floral aroma reminded her of the magnolia tree that grew in front of the Chamber of Commerce. She grabbed a wash cloth to work up a lather and began to scrub herself clean of the grime from the day. She even tried washing her hair, though the soap didn’t create much of a lather and didn’t soften her hair at all. After rinsing off she stepped from the tub and grabbed a larger linen cloth to dry with. She then reached into her pack and pulled out the clothes she had taken over the course of her day. She eye-balled the armor. The pants and jacket were some kind of black quilted material with lines of metal grommets in columns from top to bottom all the way around the material. Beneath the top layer of quilting she could feel metal plates and then those plates were sandwiched in with the inner lining of quilted material The jacket also had a sweat stained linen top that she assumed you were to wear under the jacket. It looked slightly too small for her but she would probably wear it if she ever had to leave town. 

The other clothing was what she had taken off the unfortunate victims from the fire. A simple heavy linen dress in a dull taupe color with long sleeves and a heavy overskirt, like an apron, made of a more durable maroon weave. This was what she would wear upstairs. It would help her fit in with the locals and maybe reduce the amount of stares she was eliciting in her clothes that were clearly not the norm for women of Skyrim. She reached into her backpack for her spare underwear and put those on as well. She used the tub and attempted to wash her underwear and bra with the soap and water. She would lay them out to dry when she got back to her room. She tried brushing her hair but the odd soap she had used was not a conditioner and she realized quickly she would have to wait for her hair to dry before brushing through the tangles. Clean, dressed to blend in, and feeling better than she had all day, Will put her backpack on and climbed the ladder to the main room of the inn. While a couple of the patrons glanced her way, for the most part she was ignored. She went to her room and draped her wet undies over the chair in the room dropping her backpack to the floor. She decided to empty it out and go through the contents of her bag.

She dumped it right out. She had a dagger, the armor, her clothes from today, 3 pairs of underwear, a small box of tampons, her bathing suit, the ten septims and a bit of jerky left over from the bosmer ladies. She also had the orange and kiwi she had stolen from the strange campsite. From her world she had a pack of pilot precise ball point pens in different colors and a notebook, her sketchpad, some drawing pencils and three oatmeal creme pies which had been smushed at the bottom of the pack. In the back zip she had a chapstick, a bottle of Excedrin migraine, her lip gloss and plumper, and her eyeliner. Yeah, she was definitely not packed for surviving life in Skyrim. Sighing heavily she packed everything neatly, making sure the oatmeal creme pies were on top.

She decided to go barefoot to the bar to get her dinner.

Orgnar smiled at her and plated her up some kind of meat, some potatoes, and some cooked carrots, along with bits of a white, root-looking vegetable in a white watery glaze. It smelled pretty good and tasted even better. It surely helped that her hunger was flavoring the meal but she couldn’t resist complimenting the chef when she was finished chewing. There was just the right amount of fat on the meat which melted in her mouth causing her eyes to shoot up in pleased appreciation. Orgnar had been watching her and laughed at her obvious delight and surprise.

“Wow! Orgnar you can cook!”

“Thank you, lass. I appreciate the compliment but it ain’t much.”

“You can call me Will, and this right here,” She said gesturing with her finger toward the plate, “this is the kind of thing that gets a guy in good with all the ladies.” She inserted an eyebrow wiggle for good measure. Orgnar snorted, but he gave her a speculative look.

“So where are you from Will? How long’ll you be in Riverwood?”

“I am from somewhere.. very far away. I have no idea how I got here. As for how long I’ll stay, well- I need a job. Is anyone hiring in Riverwood?” She made a hand waving motion gesturing toward the town, “It seems a bit small?” Orgnar nodded in agreement.

“You might be able to find work at the lumber mill chopping wood. We pay for game so’s we can have fresh food for the patrons. Sometimes Alvor works with strangers at the forge to fill large orders. What kind of work can you do?” He was mulling over her strange explanation of her origins even as he listed all the jobs he could think of.

“Well I have been a waitress- er serving wench? I can bus tables and serve food with a smile, is the Sleeping Giant Inn hiring?”

“Sorry. We can’t really afford to right now. The war has been a pain for business. People try to stay home and off the roads. There aren’t a lot of patrols between the smaller villages like us and the larger holds. This can make the roads a dangerous place to travel, particularly for the unwary. Most folks wait until they can join a larger group or hire the muscle to accompany them.”

“Damn.” She frowned down at her dinner before taking another bite. “I don’t know how to chop wood, never done it before in my life, but I might try tomorrow. Problem is I can’t see doing that every day for the rest of my life. I’m a teacher for small kids. Know anyone who’d like to hire a nanny- a lady who watches the children and teaches them to read and write and play well with others?”

Orgnar frowned. “You mean like a ma?”

“Well… kinda. Yeah.”

“You probably won’t find that kind of work around here.” She was scraping up the last remains of her dinner hmming to herself as she tried to figure out what kind of work experience could translate to Skyrim. Her previous high spirits were beginning to take a sharp dip. Orgnar watched her smile slowly fade and felt bad for her. “Maybe you can find some work in Whiterun that would better suit you.” She nodded smiling up at him reflexively.

“Yeah, maybe.” She glanced around the room her eyes landing on Sven as he played Ragnar the red. She could carry a tune but her vocal range was severely limited and she couldn’t play an instrument so becoming a bard was out. That was a shame because she knew the words to a lot of songs. “So,” she said looking back at Orgnar, “Do you do these, or do I put them somewhere?” She gestured toward the dishes.

“I’ve got ‘em.”

“Okay, well I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks Orgnar.” And with that she pushed up off the stool at the bar and slowly walked back to her room, shutting the door behind her.

As she stripped to her underwear and threw on her T shirt to sleep in, her mind continued to race with thoughts of a job. She was not a warrior and could not fight. She didn’t even know how to use a bow. Being a wanderer or hunter was completely out of the question. She simply wasn’t qualified, plus her day in the wilderness had taught her that she was not made for that kind of solitary life. And dead bodies everywhere! Hell to the no! She’d gotten a horse because someone that was actually from this world ended up dead on the road. It wasn’t safe outside the cities for a person like her. She needed work that would keep her safely among a well guarded populace. How much could she earn chopping wood? Well, she needed to earn at least twenty septims in order to pay her debt to the Sleeping Giant Inn. She fell asleep quickly still thinking about how to survive in Skyrim. With all that had happened, all the emotional energy she had expended that day as well as the physical exercise which her body was not used to getting she should have slept like the dead. She did not.

  
Will’s eyes snapped open while it was still dark outside. 

_My world is gone. All our songs, our films, our history. All that remains is me._ Her eyes welled up with tears. She could not even describe what she felt only that it was big, too big! How could she be all that was left! Fragments of fractured speeches pooled in her head eliciting great gulping sobs. 

_I have a dream that one day my children will live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character._

Only, Will had no children, and those words belonged to another world.

_I know not what course others may choose but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!_

Those words were just erased. Gone as if they had never moved a nation to try to become better than the world that spawned the man who spoke them.

_And the voice isn’t out there at all it’s inside me! It’s like the tide, always falling and rising! I will carry you here in my heart to remind me, that come what may, I know the way! I am Moana!_

Songs that touched her very soul never to be sung unless she sang them, stories never to be known unless she shared them. Lessons that had been taught, some learned and some unlearned by her entire species just wiped out in a blink and all that remained of the history of everything that ever was everything that was Earth and America and Europe and Ohio was in her head; in the head of a woman who could barely survive in a world that held life so cheap! 

Her tears welled to a mournful sob and she buried her face in the pillow to muffle the noise. The sobs became a series of muffled wails echoing the despairing magnitude of the unimaginable ruin of everything! How.. How could she go on and live as if nothing had happened. The universe itself had sustained a loss so great that there was no way to quantify, no way it could recover. How could she carry what was lost all alone? How could she even begin to share the collective burden when just thinking about it reduced her to this sobbing fit like an unruly child. She was overwhelmed with the enormity of the wreckage of not just her people and her planet but her context and culture. She had a responsibility to preserve something of who they- _we_ were? Right? Yes she needed to survive, but somehow she needed part of her people, her world to survive as well. People needed to know at least some of what had been lost. But how could she share it? Her mind wound around and round in a continuous loop of anxiety and bereaved speculation. This was a new level of exhausted; and somehow even with her mind cataloging all the random shit she knew, and the seemingly never ending waterfalls of tears and snot and the shuddering sobs that shook her whole frame she fell back into a deep and dreamless sleep in the middle of her tears.

  
It was Orgnar who woke her up. He knocked on her door a little before midday.

“Lass, unless you want to pay for another night we’re gonna need the room.” Her eyes snapped open. Her head seemed to be wrapped in a dull fog and she felt separate from everything, like she was watching herself from outside herself. Mechanically she got up and put on the dress and apron along with her boots. She pulled her hair back into it’s low ponytail and made her way to the main room.

“Can I have a bit of breakfast?” She asked listlessly, her voice heavy with the grief she seemed unable to shake off. Orgnar frowned in concern.

“Sure. It’s 5 septims.” She nodded to him staring blankly into space. He returned after a moment with a bowl of porridge topped with a bit of honey and a thick side of bacon. She ate slowly without tasting any of it. Orgnar had never seen someone’s face painted with such despair. He was at a loss on what to say. This was nothing like the girl he had spoken to the previous evening. What could possibly have happened between the night and morning that weighed so heavy on her?

“Is.. Is there anything I can do lass?” Will finally seemed to snap out of her daze long enough to notice him. His face was so earnest. She tried to muster up a smile but even she felt like it was more of a grimace than anything else.

“No. There is nothing anyone can do. I am the last..” Here she broke off, her breathing quickened and she tried to master herself, blinking away the tears that she could not quite stop from falling. “Fuuuck. I am so s-s-sick of crying!” Orgnar came from around the bar and pulled her awkwardly into his arms. She seemed to sag into him with relief though it seemed to signal her tear ducts to continue wreaking havoc with her composure. She held onto him as if he could stop the entire world from continuing its rotation through the heavens, as if he were all to stand between her and oblivion. She tried to stop, she really did, she continued to fight for self mastery. It was appalling this descent into weak and weepy. But then, even a part of her knew this loss was cataclysmic in size, and that this might be her natural state for a while. Orgnar just shushed her like a parent would a child, rubbing her back and rocking her slightly. The very physical human contact did help ease the ache and she clung tight to that comfort. She was, very probably, the last of her people, the last remnant of a now gone forever civilization. No one else could ever, would ever be able to share her contextual perspectives or frame of reference- at least not entirely. 

But she was not alone; and there was great comfort in that. Her people were gone, along with everyone and everything she ever knew. But there were good people in this new world she found herself in. People like Cylla and Rilla who helped a strange woman on the road with no expectation of reward or compensation. People like Orgnar who held a weeping stranger as she unloaded a world’s worth of grief into his shoulder. Yes, there were murderers, and arsonists- or maybe dragons, and wolves and killer bees which on reflection may have been a spriggan; but if she could continue to find people like Orgnar than maybe living in this world would not be so bad. She clutched tight to the man who held her for a long moment and he made no move to rush her.

“Orgnar. You have no idea.” She pulled back from him once she had control of herself. “You have no clue how much your kindness means to me or how much I needed that.” She smiled up at him through a face purple and blotchy with her tears. He smiled down at her handing her a handkerchief. She gratefully accepted it and blew her nose. “You’re not gonna want this back I hope?” She asked. He waved her off.

“Anytime lass. I’m always happy to hold a pretty girl in my arms.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eliciting a surprised giggle.

“Well again, I thank you. I’m going to go see if I can earn what I owe by chopping wood. See you later Orgnar.”

“Sure thing lass.”

It was around mid day when Will strode from the inn to the blacksmiths. She showed Alvor the Freddy Krugar claws and he paid her six septims for the pair. She also sold him the boots and cloth hat she had gotten for another three septims. She would still owe Orgnar eleven septims so after saying goodbye she made her way to the lumber mill.

“Hello?” she called out. A tall blond man who she had not seen at first detached himself from a column near the large lumber saw.

“Greetings stranger. The name’s Hod, can I help you?”

“Hi Hod, I’m Will. I heard that you ah, pay people for chopping wood?” The large man grinned down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Well met, Will. And are you asking or telling me?” Will flushed. Hod was a big and very good looking man. She was not used to big good looking men paying her any attention.But she was in Skyrim and all the men were probably big and good looking. She’d better get used to it. Besides Hod was married to Gerta- Greta- Gretel, ugh Ralof’s sister!

“Well, probably both, that’s what I heard, and, I need to earn a bit of coin.”

“Sure thing lass, just pick up an ax and get chopping, the firewood is over there,” he gestured to a pile of logs next to the mill, “we pay a septim per log you split- that’s one septim per two pieces of firewood, not two septims for a single split log.”

“Okay. Umm, is there anything I should know? I’ve uh.. I’ve never chopped firewood before.” Hod laughed.

“It’s not too difficult lass, chop with the grain of the wood and aim for the edge not the middle. You’ll do fine.”

“Alright then.” She gave a hard, quick two fingered salute from her eyebrow and headed over to the wood pile. She gingerly picked up one of the logs. It was heavy! Much heavier than she thought it would be. She managed to stand it up on the chopping block with a heave and a grunt. She then picked up the ax eye-balling it distrustfully. Her mind filled with cartoonish images of lumberjacks splitting logs, old spice commercials, and flashes from tv shows. She stood up straight and tall and swung the ax in a loop letting gravity and the momentum swing the ax into the wood.

“Fuck!” She gasped as the ax handle sent a jarring shock through her shoulders. Okay, don’t hold on so tight. She managed to pull the ax from the log and swung it around for another hit but as the ax went sailing around it flew from her grip into the air. “Oh!” she gasped, flushing with embarrassment and glancing nervously around. Hod was standing on the mill watching her and she could see his shoulders shaking with laughter even from a distance.

“By the eight!” A low voice growled from beyond the stack of timber from the direction her ax had sailed. Seconds later a disgruntled bosmer came walking around the timber to glare at her in consternation. “Lose something did you?”

“I’m sorry!” Will apologized her face flaming. “It’s my first time ever chopping wood. The ax kind of flew out of my hand. Are you alright? I didn’t hit you did I?”

“No but it could have been bad. Why are you chopping wood if you don’t know what you’re doing?” The question could have seemed rude but then again she did almost kill him with a runaway ax.

“I need to earn some coin and this seemed the fastest easiest way. I need to chop at least six logs. All the way.” This last parted was uttered somewhat ruefully as she gazed down at the half split log in front of her. The bosmer rolled his eyes at her. 

“Show me how you hold that ax.” She took the ax from him and turned toward the log. She had not even managed a full swing before he interrupted her. “Here.” He said, repositioning her hands on the shaft. “Like this. Widen your stance a little so your weight is braced on your feet and your body planted firmly, like a tree. Keep your feet apart about the breadth of your shoulders. Use your arms and waist to swing the ax not your legs and feet.” She did as he suggested. He paused her motion as she swung the ax once more, this time moving to stand behind her. He positioned her hands on the ax as he had told her but slowly took her arms through the swinging motion. “As you get here,” He said holding her arms poised halfway through the swing, “slide your hand down the shaft and grip the end of the ax tight enough that it will not fly away, but not so tight that your shoulder takes the shock.” He stepped away and eyed her critically as she swung the ax exactly as he had instructed eventually getting through the log on the third swing.

“I did it!” Will was inordinately pleased with herself. The elf was smiling bemusedly at her delight.

“Good job, now try not to kill anyone with that thing, yes?”

“Thank you so much!” The elf shrugged and walked away. “Hey! What’s your name? It seems to me I should know the name of a guy I almost beaned with an ax who helped me learn how to earn my keep.” The bosmer man chuckled.

“I’m Faendal, a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Will. Maybe I’ll see you later?”

“Maybe.” He said smiling more fully before picking up his own pile of logs and walking them over to Hod. She spent the next few minutes carefully chopping logs just like Faendal showed her and ended up splitting the six needed to repay her debt. She was sweaty and her arms were trembling and her shoulders hurt but she had done it! It took between three and four swings to chop through a single log, splitting it completely, but she had done it. She could now collect enough septims to repay her debt to Orgnar and get back the ring he was holding for her. She could sell that at the Riverwood Trader and see what gear she could purchase with the funds from the sale of the ring. Hod was happy to pay what she earned smiling at her the entire time.

“Honest pay for honest work.” He stated barely restraining his laughter.Will grinned back at him.

“Yeah I’m thinking with all the laughing you did I should charge you for the show!” She palmed her pay and skipped eagerly to the inn, thrusting the door open with great enthusiasm.

“I’m baaaack!” She cried. Orgnar was serving a drink to a man at the counter as she sashayed smugly to his side. “I believe this is what I owe you.” She dropped the septims onto the counter letting them clink together in a small pile. It was every penny she had- well not penny- and she could not help but feel extra proud at earning all that coin through her own effort.

“So it is.” Orgnar grinned. “Then I believe this,” he handed her the ring she had given him the previous evening, “is yours.” She plucked it from his hand.

“Thank’s Orgnar, I’ll be back in a bit, yeah?”

“Sure thing, Will.” She nodded to the man at the bar before heading over to the Riverwood trader. When she went inside there was no argument between brother and sister, no mention of the missing claw. Will looked around and didn’t see it so she assumed that it had been stolen but the siblings running the shop said nothing about it to each other or to her.

“Welcome miss, Lucan Valerius at your service, if there is anything I can do for you don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Hi, I have this ring I’d like to trade. How much is it worth to you?” Lucan took the ring from her fingers studying it thoughtfully.

“Hmm, it’s amethyst, not a particularly valuable stone, not a very good cut either, but its set into carved dragon bone. These kinds of rings are worth a bit more. I can trade 150 Septims and offer you store credit for another fifty. Does that sound fair to you?” 

“Absolutely.” Will was a little shocked at how much the little ring was worth, but with that money she could get some supplies and maybe a weapon. She did buy some more soap it was made of a different material and when she asked about it Camilla answered.

“Our soaps are imported from Cyrodil. Each bar is only good for one washing because if foams so much, but that lather cleans your hair and helps make it soft and shiny and easy to pull a comb through it. The scent also lasts a bit longer than the soaps made here in Skyrim.” Will was looking forward to trying the soap out on her hair. She bought three bars wrapped in cheesecloth and left with a remaining credit of 25 septims. From Alvor she bought a steel rapier for one-hundred and thirty six septims. It was strong and light. Unfortunately she still didn’t know how to use it other than to stick something with the pointy end. Honestly she was hoping she would never have to use it, but this was Skyrim and she still had to travel the road to Whiterun to get a job. She eyed the hunters bow longingly but that was well out of her price range. After saying good bye to Alvor she returned to the Sleeping Giant for lunch, leaving her exactly nine septims remaining.

“So Orgnar, how far is it to Whiterun and how long should it take to get there?”

“On your horse, not long maybe an hour or two if the weathers good.”

“If its not?”

“Two hours, and you’ll get wet.” 

“Yeah but I’m already near broke buddy and I need a job that pays a bit more than chopping wood.” He nodded in understanding. She smiled at him from over the bar. “Besides if its just a couple hours away I can come back to visit you once I get settled.” Orgnar smiled back at her his face softening with surprised affection.

“I’d like that Will.” Will reached over and hugged him over the counter, resting her cheek on his neck.

“Thank you for being so good to me when I needed someone. You’re a good man and I am glad to know you.” With a smile and a wave Will left the inn, mounted her horse and set out on the road to Whiterun. 


	3. Chapter 3: The road to Whiterun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will fights a wolf, is forced to face the brutality of death and decide how to come to her own terms with the awful disregard of life in Skyrim. Also she thirsts over the companions- like Sploosh! But she makes it to the breadbasket of Skyrim intact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as I played Will on the way to Skyrim all the stuff in the story happened and ended up in my notes and when I went to turn it into a story I realized sweet little preschool teacher Will would be utterly horrified at the callous way death is handled in Skyrim. She would not just let it go she would try, doing what she could to bring a little care and dignity to even a strangers death if she could. She is a first world citizen from a very different world with a very different set of standards and morals. What was meant to be a footnote became an entire scene that I felt was character defining. Then, I had to turn game dialogue into animated conversations, incorporate them into Will's agenda, and keep her moving toward her goal. Now I suck at talking in real life so this is hard, dialogue is difficult. I hope that it came off as natural and realistic. 
> 
> And random FYI Will's name has six syllables Wil la hel la me na: Willhelmina- is it any wonder she would rather go by Will?

Chapter 3

When Will stepped out of the tavern into the sun the first thing she noticed was that her horse was gone.

“Fuck a duck!” She swore. “Hey kid,” She asked, speaking to the boy playing with his dog, “did you see what happened to my horse?”

“No. Sorry.” He said before running off.

“Well goddamn. Looks like I’m walking.” She turned around and headed back into the inn frowning fiercely. “Orgnar, can I pop into one of the rooms to change. My horse is gone, looks like I’m walking to Whiterun.”

“Sure thing lass, sorry ‘bout your horse. You're looking at a four hour walk though.”

“Fuck me!” She cursed heading into the room she had rented the night before.

“Anytime lass!” Orgnar yelled back through the closed door.

“It’s an expression!” She yelled back indignantly and slightly worried she had given him the wrong idea. She could hear his laughter through the door. She put on the armor. Just as she thought the top was too tight. She couldn’t even get the jacket buttoned and the pants were too short. There was also a musty body odor smell that caused her to curl her nose in distaste. Yeah, she was definitely selling and replacing this first chance she got. She put on the gloves mainly because they had spikes on the knuckles, but she kept her own boots on. She strapped the dagger and rapier to her waist and threw her backpack back on. As she exited the room Orgnar offered her a sack. 

“What’s this?” she asked, taking it from him.

“It's a bit of horker loaf to eat on the way. A four hour walk on your own two feet is a lot more work than a two hour ride on horseback. You be careful.”

“Aww, thanks dad.”

“Get out of here.” Orgnar muttered fondly.

The walk to Whiterun was dull. There was nobody else on the road and the natural silence of the woods seemed unnatural to Will’s modern city adapted ears. But Will was vigilant because she remembered the wolves on the path from the game. As she went, she picked mushrooms from the trees, plucked the many different flowers, and uprooted some of the more interesting looking grasses. It couldn’t hurt to see what she could get from the Apothecary shop in Whiterun. 

There were a lot of different kinds of plants growing along the trail. Tiny red, blue, and purple budded flowers, along with larger white blooms that felt like cotton. She recognized lavender and thistle as those had grown near where she had lived. She had no idea about the mushrooms but she did recall that they were used by alchemists. 

The trail and the river it buttressed were much longer than in the game. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky with only a few white puffs of clouds floating across the periwinkle expanse. It was- all things considered, a beautiful day. If it took the full four hours to walk to Whiterun she judged she’d get there around sevenish in the evening. Would it be dark by then? She had not paid attention to the time yesterday having no real way to tell. Somewhere, some girl scout leader was turning in their grave over her lack of survival skills. 

How do people tell time in Skyrim anyway? Orgnar had used the term hours so at least they measured time using a common vocabulary. She had never paid attention to the Skyrim calendar so she had no clue how they tracked months or seasons. It had been autumn when she left her world. As she walked Will noticed that the trees which had been really tall and dense were dwindling in number. Some of the conifers were also sporting browning limbs that hung over the road. Why were they dying? She wondered. A rabbit darted across the path in front of her, a delicate thing all ears and feet and floof and Will was enchanted.

“Awwww, a cute little bunny!” Back home she’d only ever seen rabbits in pet stores. If the journey wasn’t so long, and she was not already cognizant of the passing of time with no desire to spend the evening outdoors in the wilderness, she might have tried to catch it- just to hold it and give it cuddles. The rabbit probably wouldn’t have appreciated that, so it was just as well she kept moving. A while later on the far bank of the river, a doe crept up to the riverbank for a drink and Will found her breath catching in her throat. Skyrim was so full of unexpected wonders. As if the universe took perverse joy in mocking her delight, her pleasure turned to panic practically on the heels of that last contented thought.

A violent growling was her only warning she was no longer alone. Her heartbeat pounding in her chest she rushed to pull her sword and dagger, whirling around to face the direction of what could only be the father of Kujo. She managed to slap the wolf that came snarling off the side of the mountain with her sword but it ignored the blade as if it were nothing and bit her forearm.

“Ahhh!” She screamed, dropping the sword as her fingers spasmed reflexively, but she stabbed the mange ridden bastard in the throat with her other hand using the dagger. And stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed! The wolf let out a cry and released her arm, falling limp to the side of the road. She gawked at her arm, feeling the bruises already forming beneath the armor but gratifyingly enough the armor had done its job and the wolf bite had not managed to puncture her arm. She retrieved her sword from the ground, rather upset that her first reaction had been to drop the blade. She was still feeling the pent up fury riding her adrenaline high with nowhere for the energy to go and she kicked the wolf's corpse for good measure. Her entire body was trembling and she screamed at it, flicking it off with both hands. “Fuck! You! Asshole!” She screeched, before resuming her trek with a more intense and energetic stride, eyes darting to the side, scanning the brush no longer trusting the idyllic calm.

Eventually her adrenaline rush wore off. Her body continued trembling but she kept walking, stomping her feet and grunting in defiance. She had to learn to push through this kind of reaction. By Skyrim standards she was a complete milkdrinker. She had to get better. She walked on through her angst riding out the physiological reaction to her fear and when she was finally calm decided it was time for a break anyway. 

She pulled out the Horker loaf from Orgnar and ate it along with the orange she had stolen, drinking from her waterskin while sitting on the side of the river watching the water flow by. The current was getting faster, white swells foamed and gurgled. Occasionally she could see fish leaping in the miniature falls, however rather than watching them with her former delight she cautiously scanned her surroundings. No way was she going to start enjoying the natural splendor of Skyrim again, providing the universe with yet another opportunity to make her something’s dinner. She could hear the rush of the falls and rapids up ahead. If she was a better swimmer she might have tried jumping in and letting the current carry her but she was uncertain what would happen if she jumped into a raging river. If there was a survivor’s episode that explained it, she had not seen it, and she did not want to get all her belongings wet anyway.

After finishing her meal she rose to her feet and began walking again. She found herself humming all the Disney songs she knew. In fact, she decided when she got enough money she was going to try to write the lyrics of all the songs she knew so they would not be completely lost. She might even deliver them to the bard college and teach the tunes to some of the bards who could then sing them on key the way they were meant to be. The thought encouraged her, made her smile hopefully as she came around another bend in the road. She slowed her pace and then stopped. Up ahead three imperial soldiers were escorting what she assumed was a Nord prisoner. They had veered off the side of the road and one of the men fell. The other two backed away swinging their blades with fierce resolve as a crab the size of a German Shepard advanced on them.

“Holy Fuck!” She breathed, aghast at the size of the thing. The other two guards managed to kill it and re-corral their prisoner and they left, leaving the body of their fallen colleague to rot in the sun. 

“Unbefuckinglievable!” She muttered. She was coming to the understanding of exactly how little life seemed to matter to the natives of this land. “I mean, who does that, who just leaves their coworkers body lying on the ground?!” 

She was a little indignant on the unknown soldier's behalf. Didn’t he deserve a burial? Didn’t he have a mother or a wife back home- wherever that was- that would like the chance to lay him to rest. She slowly paced to the dead man's side, skirting around the dead mudcrab. If she remembered correctly from the game she should be able to harvest mudcrab chitin and crab legs but as she looked at it in passing she realized she had no clue what chitin was and the smallest claw on that thing was as big as a chihuahua. No way was she ripping into it to figure out how to make use of it. It already smelled bad and it was currently in one piece. The idea of pulling it apart and the resulting smell made her want to gag. She knelt down by the dead soldier.

“Jesus, dude. I am so sorry this happened to you.” She searched his pockets for ID of some kind, pocketing six septims and a gold necklace but there was nothing to identify him. “I hope you know I’m not robbing you because I’m a jerk. I just have no clue how to survive in your country and well, you're dead.” She took his dagger, helmet and gauntlets knowing she could sell them in town. Next to him she saw a bow and some arrows so she grabbed them hoping she could find someone to teach her to use them. His sword was gross, covered in crab ichor- no way was she touching it; but he also had a halberd which she grabbed to use as a walking stick. She could sell it in town with the gear she took. 

She stabbed at the ground a few times but the earth was hard packed and rocky. There was no way she could dig a grave for him on her own. Not with the tools she had on her. There were not enough rocks to make a cairn. She was startled to discover tears pricking behind her eyes, echoing a swelling ache within her chest. A surge of empathy welled from within towards the fallen soldier whose name she didn’t even know. 

“It’s not fair!” She cried. “How could they just leave you here to rot? Like you’re meat, like you're just some kind of meat!” The universe failed to respond and that just incensed her further. “You worked with them, isn’t there something about honor and soldiers that should have prevented this from happening to you?” The corpse gave no response. She threw her backpack to the ground and glared angrily in the direction of his surviving comrades. 

She inhaled a deep furious breath and with silent resolve crouched beside her pack, jerking the zipper roughly until it was open in front of her. She pulled out all the flowers she had picked bundling them up to make a thick colorful bouquet. Her nose was running. _Again._ She was crying. _Again._ But at least this time they were angry tears. She lay the bouquet on the ground and moved to gingerly turn the man over on his back. He was in full armor, and he was literally a dead weight. Sweat dripped down her spine and she grunted as she turned him. She crossed his arms and his feet and closed his eyes so that he looked more like he was resting. She picked his sword up by the hilt and placed it flat along his torso. His face looked so young. She then picked up the bouquet of flowers and laid it gently on his chest. She put her back pack on and picked up the soldiers discarded halberd. She looked around and still found herself alone, nobody in sight. The roar of the waters of the White river seemed loud in the quiet afternoon air. Will took a shaky breath and began to address the universe on behalf of the man at her feet.

“I’m no priest. I don’t know if there is a God in heaven. If there is, they’ve never talked to me. And that’s fine because what I have to say to them they probably don’t want to hear. I don’t know any fancy words to send you off, on this your final adventure.” She paused, taking a shuddering breath trying to remember any words from her world that fit the moment, that would make a decent send off to the man’s spirit but nothing profound came to mind. 

“I didn’t know you, but I know you served your country.. Um, I mean empire. I don’t know if you were a good man; but I saw you fight to defend your comrades and your prisoner. I don’t know what you believed would happen after death, but I saw you give your life to do your duty. Then I saw those same comrades abandon you as if you were nothing.” Her voice broke a little, “But you were not nothing! You were someone's son! You were their brother. Maybe their husband. You were definitely their comrade! You were worthy of more in life and you are worthy of better in death. And it fucking sucks that this is how you go out.” She sucked air in through her teeth angrily palming her tears aside.

“May you find peace in the afterlife and... and may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.” That seemed appropriate, she was sure Garrus would have approved- if he was real, he probably was, existing in some parallel universe. She looked around unsure if she should be done. Didn’t people usually sing at funerals? Will had never had a real family, nobody she knew had ever died, all her experience with death was from television and movies and reading. She shifted uncomfortably. She really couldn’t sing very well, but the man was dead and no one was around to mourn him. No one but her. Will felt a piercing, keening kinship to that thought to a startlingly uncomfortable extent. She sighed. What was a good song to say goodbye? She thought for several moments, Disney songs were too happy or preachy sung, with a purpose but not this one. Her mind spun in circles as she tried to think of something less cliche than Amazing Grace. When she started to sing her voice was pitched too low and was weak and shaky.

_“When I find myself in times of trouble_

_Mother Mary comes to me_

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be”_

She could never remember the words to the next verse, but she tried her best.

_“And something something something darkness_

_She is standing here with me_

_Speaking words of wisdom, let it be_

_Let it be, let it be, Let it be, let it be”_ And here the notes soared too high and her voice cracked and wavered. Even though there was no one to see she still felt herself flush in embarrassment. However she pushed through to the next line, adjusting the pitch mid song to something more manageable. She was determined to do at least this much for the poor man left to rot by his brothers in arms.

_“Whisper words of wisdom, let it be_

_And when the broken hearted people_

_Living in the world agree_

_There will be an answer, let it be_

_For though they may be parted_

_There is still a chance that they will see”_ The next line was also one she didn’t know so she hummed it so the melody would be unbroken.

_“hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm hmm, let it be_

_Let it be, let it be, Let it be, let it be_

_There will be an answer, let it be.”_

Having done all she could think of, Will resolutely turned away from the dead man and continued on her path to Whiterun. She felt good about what she had done. It felt like it was the right thing to do. This new world that she was now a part of may not value life but Wilhelmina Jones did. Come what may she resolved not to let this world change that part of her! And singing the soldier to rest using a song from her world brought comfort to her own heart. Some of her world could live on. She could make it so.

As the path continued on, farms began to replace the forested roadside. In the game she recalled the first building she would see was the Meadery, but here there was just a series of fields with farmers working them. She had yet to come to a fork in the road and could not even see the walled city of Whiterun. There were farm animals in pens eying her curiously as she passed. Pigs the size of men snuffling in troughs lined up along fences hewn from the rough pine boughs forming the borders of their pens. A large corral holding a few horses playfully frolicking and leaping was on one of the farms. A large herd of Sheep grazed along the side of the river and one of the uncultivated pastures, wandering across the road forcing her to move between them; but there was no Shepard in sight. Some of the farms started sporting milk cows and oxen and even a few bulls. 

She began seeing flocks of geese and ducks and even the occasional rampaging chicken- one small red cock that was diminutive in stature and large on attitude flapped its wings at her and crowed angrily in her direction. His problem though was his crow cut off in the middle of the doo as if he had a frog in his throat so it sounded more like a cock-a doodle- erk. She found it funny even as she walked a wide path around the raging feathered Napoleon. Skyrim cherished it’s chickens. She would not tempt fate by engaging in battle with the barnyard fowl. 

Many of the wheat fields looked to be half harvested, the potato plants growing lush and thick and green. Organized rows of leeks, lettuce, gourds, and tomatoes grew in the fields of almost every farm she passed. She wondered if she could just walk right up and begin harvesting from the fields, but that had never made sense to her so she didn’t try it in case it was just a game mechanic. She wasn’t coming to Whiterun to steal. She wanted an honest job. Harvesting crops was not something she minded doing, she just wanted to get a farmers permission first. 

Windmills began to pop up, as well as more frequent homesteads and farm outbuildings. Children darted across the path and in the fields. Bleating sheep, lowing cows, quacks and honks and children’s laughter broke the silence that had been her persistent companion for most of the day. The smell of woods and loam began to recede giving way to the stench of manure and mud, livestock and civilization. 

As she walked, the sky began to darken and the shadows lengthened. It would be sundown soon. Will had hoped to be in Whiterun before sunset so she urged her legs to move faster. She was relieved when over the next hill the walls of Whiterun finally came into view. As did the meadery, it was right where the road forked near the bridge that led to the Rift- if her memory of the game could be trusted. Encouraged by the familiar sight, as well as the uptick in people on the road, including a few passing guard patrols, her feet began to carry her at a swifter pace. There were more farms, more farmers, animals that had escaped their pens or were perhaps left to free range- including several peacocks and peahens- that could be seen dappling the landscape, chewing the grasses and making the hold of Whiterun appear more alive than the game ever could. Will began picking the flowers again, determined to have something to sell at Arcadia’s before she asked for a job.

She was picking some red mountain flowers growing in a cluster on the stream bed outside of Whiterun, when the entire earth trembled beneath her feet, and an ear splitting roar broke the pastoral, idyllic cacophony. It was followed by a man’s answering bellow. Now, she had been bent over when the earth shook and having never experienced earthquakes or tremors of any kind Will was unprepared to brace herself and so of course she fell on her ass. To her credit she rose quickly and pulled her sword while turning towards rather than running from the source of the noise.

It was a giant. A big fucking giant was rampaging through the fields stomping the crops and swinging at three people who seemed to run and roll and leap and hop around him, reminding Will of flies buzzing in the face of an irritated elephant. It was a rather comic spectacle because when the giant would focus on one of its attackers, ready to swing its club, the other two would garner its attention. She would have laughed- except hello! Big. Fucking. Giant! 

An archer stayed far out of range of the giant and it’s club, lining up and shooting arrows at the beast. A huge man in heavy armor bellowed back every time the beast roared at them.Feinting in to tempt it to swing and backing away at just the right moment before darting back in with more agility than Will could have credited him for in such heavy armor with such a huge sword. A third warrior wove in and out of the things' massive legs, slashing with her sword, and cutting the ogreish behemoth before rolling out of the way and darting behind it. 

Another arrow would hit the giant in the face as the swords woman dodged away, but every time the giant tried to advance the archer managed to evade him. In frustrated rage he grabbed a sheep from the ground as it tried darting past and flung it at the woman. While small to the giant, the sheep he threw was a rather large and heavy ewe to a human and it slammed into the archer sending her to the ground at the unexpected projectile. 

The giant saw it’s opportunity and started forward! Will just knew it was going to smash the poor woman to bits. She had to distract it, but how? Sure she had a bow and arrows, but she didn’t know how to use them! She cast her gaze around in panic for something to use to help and saw a rock the size of a baseball laying on the ground. She grabbed it up and charged forward, yodeling her Xena warrior princess war cry as loud as she could and lobbed it at the monster's face with all the force she could muster! Will had good aim, she taught the after school kids how to play baseball at her preschool program and she coached them in all aspects of the game. The rock bounced off the giant right between its eyes. It stopped. It collapsed to its knees. The huge warrior charged forward and slashed with his giant sword, hacking into the neck sending gouts of blood and flesh spraying like a sprinkler system into the air. Will let out a yip in revulsion, she had been letting her mad charge slow to a jog as the giant fell, threat nullified, but not wanting the gore to touch her, her mind made the decision before her legs could catch up and she ended up backpedaling so hard she fell over her own feet, adapting quickly to her new situation she crab walked out of range of the spurting font. 

She decided to just sit there and catch her breath for a few minutes. She did not see the archer approach, so focused was she on the Big. Fucking. Giant.

“ Well met, Kinsman.” Will looked up, and up, at the statuesque archer. If she were a betting woman, Will would lay odds that the gorgeous redhead giving her the once over was Aela, and the other two were Farkas and Ria of the Companions of Jorrvaskr. The heaven-kissed woman reached out her hand and Will took it letting the Companion pull her to her feet. 

Aela was everything Will had always wanted to be, she had a long wild mane of hair the color of sunrise lighting on the fur of a wild fox, arms that didn’t quit, and a body built for strength and speed, it's unapologetic evidence carved into every line and muscle. She had large gold-green eyes and warpaint that criss crossed her face in a hashtag as if to say don’t fuck with me. One could reasonably say Will was minorly girl crushing on Aela. In the game Will could never make it down to the companions in time to help kill the giant. But this time- when it counted, she had helped. Will couldn’t hold back her delighted smile.

“That was a great hit! You got him right between the eyes!” The swords woman Ria, exclaimed, striding to their side with all the confidence of a born warrior.

“Aye, but was that a turkey call I heard?” The huge man with the giant sword asked, his eyes twinkling down at her.

“Hey!” She playfully objected, “I’ll have you know that is the war cry of Xena warrior princess- the epitome of epic female badassery!” Will was joking when she said it but blushing with abashed regret, why had she done that! Farkas- for it could be no other just grinned at her discomfort. Aela on the other hand ignored it completely.

“If you are a true warrior you should come to Jorrvaskr and talk to Kodlak about becoming a Companion.”

“Aye, you don’t look like much but you have heart. I’m Farkas, these are my shield sisters Aela and Ria.”

“I’m Will, nice to meet you all. Do you guys do this everyday? Kill giants I mean, because that was just- whooooah!” Ria laughed at her tone and big handed gestures, answering for the group.

“We are brothers and sisters in honor and sometimes we solve problems.”

“If the coin is good enough.” Aela added.

“Or the cause worthy.” Farkas rebutted.

“Are you headed into the city?” Ria asked.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to get a job, find a way to earn a living that doesn’t involve,” and here she curled her nose and gestured to the giant carcass still dribbling blood, “all this ick!” The Companions laughed at her expression.

“Well you showed courage,” Farkas reiterated, making eye contact with her, “diving into that fight to aid our fallen sister, you should talk to Kodlak, see what he says.”

“The old man has a good sense for these things. If you do go to him, good luck.” Aela gestured for her to follow so Will picked up her things and walked the rest of the way to the city with the Companions- _The Companions of Ysgramor_ at her side. 

She tried not to ogle Aela too much but Farkas was just as much a problem. He was cleaner than the vanilla game version, dressed in the dark brown Wolf armor from the Amidianborn mod- if she remembered correctly. He had a scruff that made his face look sinfully appealing and reminded Will it had been several months since she had been with anyone and that scruff would look perfect between her legs. And his lips were made for kissing. Beautiful, elegant, dick-sucking lips that Will would be happy to spend the day getting to know in a much more intimate setting. He smiled at her, his eyes, the color of ice and silver seemed to pierce her, making her shiver. 

She sincerely hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. The thought that he might know what she was thinking was enough to send the blood rushing to her face and she cursed her light complexion. Desperate to keep their attention off her she turned to Ria, a safe place for her eyes to look without objectifying their target.

“So why did you join the Companions?” She asked.

“Are you kidding me?!” Ria’s entire face lit up with her enthusiasm, “I’ve wanted to be with them since I was a little girl! Have you heard the stories of _Kodlak and Skjor fighting off one hundred and one orc berserkers._ ” This last part was echoed by the addition of both Farkas and Aela joining their voices to Ria’s narrative having obviously heard this passionate spiel before.

The girl flushed prettily but just grinned wider, punching Farkas in the shoulder and rolling her eyes at Aela before returning her attention to Will. “Skjor says it was more like forty but he’s probably just being modest.”

Aela snorted, “it was probably half of that if it’s even true at all.”

“My brother and I grew up hearing stories of his and Kodlak’s exploits.” Farkas interjected, “the number does tend to change with every new retelling.”

“I’ll never believe it!” Ria declared, staunchly defending her hero’s. “Where else would I want to be but here, fighting at their sides.” 

  
  
  


Will parted ways with the companions once she entered the city. While they returned to Jorrvaskr she turned into the blacksmith’s shop. 

“Welcome to Warmaidens kinsman, we’ve got weapons and armor to suit any of your needs.”

“I actually want to know what I can get for this gear.” Will lay the halberd against the counter and unloaded the helm, dagger, and gauntlets from the soldier.” The shopkeeper narrowed his eyes at her in question.

“And how did you get such fine gear and weapons, they clearly belong to an imperial soldier?”

“I saw a mudcrab kill an imperial soldier on the path from Riverwood.” Her voice elevated as indignation flared anew at the fresh memory, and she made sure to make and maintain direct eye contact with the man so he knew she was honest. “His _compatriots_ ,” and here she spat the word leaving no doubt about her true feelings for the men, “abandoned his body on the road to rot. I took what I could carry but not before trying to arrange him with some dignity and saying a few words over him. He has a mama somewhere and I did what I could. The ground was too hard for me to dig a grave and there were not enough stones to make a cairn. I’m afraid the carrion eaters will get to him, but I did what I could for him.” The shopkeeper's suspicious glare receded and his eyes softened at her explanation.

“Aye, that ye did lass. These are terrible times when men forget the value of life. I’ll give you eighty septims for the lot.”

“Oh. Okay. I was hoping for a little bit more but at least it will buy me a night or two at the inn.” As she took the money the shopkeeper pointed to the gold necklace peeking out of her pack.

“Try selling that to Belathor, it should fetch you a nice sum of septims.” She smiled up at him.

“I will, thanks. Hey you wouldn’t happen to be hiring a shop girl to keep the place clean, attend to odd jobs or run errands around town?”

“No, my wife and I run this place on our own. We don’t really need any help. Sorry.” He said apologetically. Will sighed.

“Well keep me in mind if you change your mind or if you hear anything about anyone around town hiring help.”

“Sure thing lass, but you know a lot of coin can be made adventuring.”

“Do I look like an adventurer to you?” Will sassed. “It doesn’t take getting shot in the knee to keep me in the city.” That startled a gruff laugh out of the burly man.

“Been talkin’ to the city guards have you?”

“Something like that.” Will grinned, waving goodbye.

Once she finished up at Warmaidens she went to Arcadia’s cauldron. She got there just in time entering the shop as Arcadia was walking from behind her counter to lock the doors.

“I’m just about to close shop for the day, do you know what you’re getting?” Arcadia asked, returning to her spot behind the bar.

“Actually I was wondering if I could get anything for these ingredients I collected on the way here from Riverwood.” Arcadia raised her brow in curiosity.

“Here. Lay them out on the counter and let me see what you have.” Will did just that. Arcadia began rattling off the names of the plants and their worth. 

“Let’s see, one blue mountain flower, worth 1 septim can be used in healing potions or soaps, deathbell for poison and damage to health, one septim. Three dragons tongue, good condition, great for fortification and fire resistance I can give you two septims each.” She removed a few of the plants from the pile, commenting “lavender is common enough that I don’t need to buy it. I don’t pay anything for the tundra cotton or thistle branch either. Mora tapinella-” She picked up the mushrooms Will had taken from the trees outside of Riverwood to study it carefully- “this bit is worth a septim, get me more if you can, it has several properties that function differently in different potions, making it one of the more versatile alchemical ingredients. Let’s see, one purple mountain flower and five red mountain flowers for a total of six septims and snow berries. Common enough but these are perfect, I’ll give you eleven septims for the lot of ingredients, keep the lavender, tundra cotton and thistle branch.”

“Thank you.” Will was relieved. The money from the ingredients would pay for a night at the inn letting her use her other funds for food and a bath. As Arcadia got her money from behind the counter Will asked, “So are you some kind of healer?” Arcadia laughed, pouching up the coins before handing them to Will.

“You could say that. If I had a septim for every case of Rockjoint or Witbane I’ve cured since I opened this shop I’d be a rich woman indeed.”

“But why choose an alchemist instead of going to say, a mage or a shrine?” Will was genuinely curious as she never quite understood it in the game.

“Have you ever contracted Rockjoint while out in the wilderness, far from any towns or holds? It makes any movement a pain, every joint in your body swells and spasms even the joints in your fingers. You run a fever and feel awful. The swelling and pain can prevent you from wielding a weapon, a sure death in the wilds. A potion of cure disease can clear it right up, otherwise you have to somehow push through the pain to get back to a town lucky enough to have a shrine to the gods, and then hope the divines smile on you in your hour of need. As for the mage alternative, well, not many specialize in the school of restoration in these parts, and fewer still is the number of Nord’s that would trust their health to the hands of a magic user.”

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that. So wait you’re saying that the shrines to the divines do not always cure the petitioners that pray over them?” Arcadia looked at her as if she’d grown another head.

“If the person praying does not live according to the tenets of the divine they pray to or has fallen from the divines grace or favor then no, the petitioner will not be cured. The gods are sometimes fickle in who they choose to bless. Potions are more reliable and do not depend on faith in order to fulfill their purpose.”

“That is good to know. You have my thanks.” Arcadia inclined her head.

“Now if you will be so kind,” she gestured to the door, softening her directive with a small smile.

“Oh yeah! Sorry. Have a good evening.” Will exited the shop. The stars were out in abundance and her breath caught. There were so many of them! And in the sky overhead two moons illuminated the darkness. 

“Todo,” She breathed, “we are most definitely not in Kansas anymore.” Except for a couple of guards stationed in the market circle the streets were empty. 

“Hey you, no lollygagging.” One of the guards barked at her, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I’m not.” She snapped affronted, “I’m just staying at the inn.” She sped away from him and opened the door to the Bannered Mare. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4: Why am I here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will looks for a job, her inner mother comes out, an alliance between Aedra and Daedra? And apparently she's just not good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had a 2 day work related training this week, traded in my car and experienced the existential dread of doing a training montage for the next chapter. Like I know I can't just type training montage and leave it at that. Can I? No, that would be a dick move. Besides Hircine is hawt and I want to have Will train with Aela's forebears.
> 
> In this chapter I wanted to work in an explanation for the MGIS phenomenon. I've read different theories about dragonborn and how they get the soul of the dragon and speculation on the blood of Tiber Septim and Miraak etc so I toyed with manipulated and twisted into a pretzel the lore to fit my needs, sprinkle in a bit of quantum theory ala Sliders style parallel universes and infinite worlds with infinite outcomes based on infinite choices and feel free to put your own modern person in Skyrim based on this half baked quackery because I'll read them I'm addicted to them like cocaine. I also wanted to progress the story from exposition to more rising action. I hope it works for you. Man I can't wait to get to the smut. Eventually there will be the smuttiest of smut- like a smut sandwich. But for now lets do the last bit of exposition.

Chapter 4

So, a girl a dwarf and a bard all walk into a bar. Sounds like the beginning of an awesome dirty joke! It would, however, be a lie. The bard was already cranking out Ragnar the Red by the fire and doing a shit job of it too. No one was really listening, probably because he was just that bad at his job. A dwarf hung out in the corner if that counted for anything, smoking and drinking and watching everything in the room. He watched her for a moment, Will caught his eye and her mouth parted slightly. She thought Skyrim didn’t have dwarves? He looked like he belonged in Middle Earth, not in Skyrim. Will pushed through the crowd of patrons and made her way to the bar. The Bannered Mare was packed. People seated at well worn tables conversed with carefree abandon, and the two barstools Will squeezed in between were taken up by Whiterun guards who looked to be deep in their cups, swaying slightly as they frankly assessed her cleavage while she tried to get Hulda’s attention.

“Excuse me, I’d like to get a room, bath and dinner.” Hulda was eying her from behind the bar drying out some cups and placing them on the shelves lining the back wall. She then walked over to her.

“Sorry dear, I couldn’t hear you over the ruckus. What do you need?”

Will raised her voice, “I need a room, food and a bath. How much?”

“Twenty septims, twenty five if you use any of the house soaps.”

“Thanks.” Will counted out twenty septims, handing them over with a pained sigh.

“Right this way, I’ll show you to your room.” Hulda expertly weaved through the crowd to the ladder at the back of the main room which led upstairs. Will followed her, brushing past revelers and locals with whispered apologies and gentle nudges, to a truly lovely well appointed room smelling of clean laundry and fresh lavender. “Here you go dear. There’s a wash basin in the corner and a space to sit and eat on the balcony over here.” She gestured toward an open doorway that led to a balcony overlooking the main hall. “I’ll have my girl, Saadia, bring you up a meal and a mug of ale. If you want a bath the bathing chamber is in the kitchen by the pantry. It’s a trapdoor in the floor, you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.” Will said politely. She put her pack on the bed and pulled out her dress and a change of underwear, grabbing a bar of that special soap she’d purchased from The Riverwood Trader. She laid it out on the bed, deciding to eat first, and moved to sit at the table on the balcony. As she looked down over the railing and onto the main floor of the tavern she recognized some of the people. She knew Mikael and Hulda, she also recognized Carlotta and her daughter. The kid was playing with another little girl that Will thought might be the orphan, Lucia on the floor at her mother’s feet. A beautiful woman with honey blond hair in a swept updo sat in the corner garbed in a serviceable blue dress conversing with Idolaf Battleborn. She thought the woman might be Ysolda. As she looked around she was coming to realize that this was either a heavily modded version of Skyrim or people were just much better looking than the game play of the vanilla game. The kids looked more like the kids from the popular children’s mod than the original potato headed weirdo’s, which, quite frankly, was a bit of a relief; there was also more distinction and individuality in their youthful features.

“Here you go miss.” Will turned from her study of the patrons as the serving girl laid out her meal on the table. Saadia was definitely prettier than vanilla Saadia. Will decided to just go with it.

“Thank you Saadia.”

“We also have apple pie but it’s an extra three septims for a slice or fifteen septims for the whole pie.” The idea of sweet apple glaze and buttery, crispy, flaky, crust made her salivate. “I’ll take a slice if you don’t mind.”

“Very good miss.” Saadia took payment for the pie and left. Will dug into her meal with gusto, a hot chicken quarter in gravy with sliced and seasoned potatoes, grilled leeks, and carrots in a light honey sauce. She had a small carafe of ale which, as she poured into the provided cup, she realized would give her about two and a half servings. When Saadia returned with the pie Will was already half way through with her meal.

“Who cooked this?” She asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, privately bemoaning the lack of napkins.

“Twas me miss, is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just really good. Marry me? I can’t offer you, well anything really, but I promise to love you forever if you always cook like this. Whaddaya say, run away with me?” Saadia laughed.

“If you think that’s good wait till you eat the pie.” She winked at Will and left the room without ever having answered her proposal. Will grinned watching her depart. That girl had skills. She wondered if Hulda needed another serving girl? But that was a worry for tomorrow. She finished her dinner, washing it down with half the ale, grimacing slightly at the bitter aftertaste. Ale was definitely not going to be her new favorite drink. She smacked her lips together and swallowed cleansing her palette and then dug into the pie. Pure, sugary bliss exploded on her tongue. She let out a low moan in sweet gratification. The crust was everything she dreamed it would be, that perfect balance of dense, mush, and flaky delight. The apples were not overcooked but retained the barest hint of their crispness. The glaze was not so thick that it overpowered the rest of the pie but just thick enough to wet her palette and soften the underside of the crust. Eating Saadia’s pie was an almost sexual experience and Will took hedonistic pleasure in devouring every morsel slowly, making sure her cheeks, tongue and teeth got to experience the full range of textures and flavors. The barest hint of cinnamon and something else she couldn’t identify danced the edges of her taste buds. It was with great sorrow that she came to the end of it, popping the last bite into her mouth. 

She sat back and let herself relax into the haze of smoke, dim lighting and chorus of voices. The scent of the food mingled with unwashed bodies and strong tobacco perfuming the air with a unique and not wholly pleasant aroma. The sour notes of Mikael’s rendition of Age of Aggression the only discordant note in an otherwise symphony of relaxing ambiance. After a while Will felt her eyelids getting heavier. She was ready for sleep, but not before a bath, so gathering her materials she headed down to the bathing room. The setup was very similar to the one in Riverwood so in no time at all Will was scrubbing and lathering away a days worth of dirt and sweat. The rich foamy lather smelled sweet and flowery and the lather slid through her hair like the best bottle of conditioner from home, relaxing the burnt orange strands so that she was able to glide her fingers through the tangles. Her hair felt like silk, smooth and soft, flickering in alternating shades of sunset orange and burnished gold as the firelit cast flickering shadows on her shoulder length mane. She was both enchanted and delighted. After rinsing clean, she got out to dry off and dress, the heat from the braziers allowing her to dry quickly even if there were no quality towels available, and instead only some rough linen cloths. She pulled her brush through her hair and made a loose braid that hung over her shoulder, secured with her elastic hair-tie. Dressed, clean, and smelling fresh and floral, Will returned to her room. Once there she changed from her dress to her T shirt and climbed beneath the quilt. As the evening wore on, the inn lapsed into rustic silence and Will eventually fell into a weary sleep.

She was somewhat startled to find herself in the center of a dimly lit garden. No one was with her, but she could feel the presence of many all around her. Her skin crawled slightly as she felt those unknown gazes caress her skin uncertain how she knew but knowing not all the gazes were benign. The air was filled with whispers in voices heavy with power, as if the weight of geologic time rested in the low tones weighing heavily on her ears, pressing against the inside of her skull. Power thrummed around and inside her and Will quivered in fear.

_ ‘Daughter, I welcome you to your new land.’ _ One voice rose from the quiet thundering rumble of the many indistinct droning sibilations. His was a strong and noble voice, comforting yet awe-inspiring.

“Who are you? Wh-where am I?”

_ ‘You are in the dreaming, the twilight vale, a pocket of oblivion created by Aedra and Daedra, in this, their narrow alliance.’ _

“Aedra and Daedra- the gods and demigods of Nirn.” She whispered to herself, uncertain and feeling all at once out of her depth and distinctly vulnerable. “What alliance? What has this to do with me?”

_‘You are the solution to the problem caused by man.’_ Another voice rose from the buzz of whispers, more feminine, supercilious and demanding. _‘The bloodline of the Allesia has been cleansed from Mundus, thus was born the need for a solution to stop the first born of Akatosh._ _You are the compromise. A soul not born of Nirn imbued with a part of the All-father, one with no allegiances or ties to Aedra or Daedra would be given a chance to save the world we all love and would see continue.”_

_ ‘While we all vie for the favor and rights of the spirit of this other-worlder, this Dovahkiin.’ _ This third voice was a low animalistic growling coming from a form shimmering into existence, a man in skins and a headdress made of the skull of a large beast with heavy antlers gracing his noble brow. His body was strong and lean and seemed to slide from the shadows as he stepped toward her with all the grace of an apex predator. Will was mesmerized. Even as she spoke to all the voices ringing in her ears her gaze could not seem to turn from the form of the man who stood before her in primal superiority, as if basking in her warm appraisal were his right and due.

“So you guys are the reason I’m here?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Send me back! Now! You had no right to take me from my home!”

_ ‘Easy daughter of mine, we did not take you without consent. At the moment your world ended we plucked you and many like you to put in place in each variation of Nirn lacking a dragonborn, lacking one with the blood of Tiber Septim. Each iteration was seeded with a piece of my spirit so they could save their Nirn should they choose. Just as you were.’ _

“Akatosh. You’re Akatosh. Alduin is your first born and you’ve made me- wait I can’t be dragonborn! I can’t fight! I grew up in a world where all the fighting was done in courtrooms or behind keyboards or in a war where I was not actually fighting!”

_ ‘And so we come to you, as we do to all other-worlders, in all the Nirns. Our narrow alliance allows us to train you in the dreaming where time has no meaning. You may choose which of the princes to learn from and which of the divines to follow. Your choices will greatly impact the powers on your version of Nirn.’ _ Will’s heart leaped at those words- all other-worlders, so perhaps she was not as alone as she had feared.

“So you’re telling me that other humans from my Earth escaped the… the end? People like me still live and they’ve come to Nirn, like I did, are they here now?!”

_ ‘No other-worlder. Only one Earthborn son or daughter can walk the lands of Tamriel in their version. But as with all worlds there are an infinite number of Nirns with an infinite number of possible outcomes existing side by side in space time together.’ _

The primal prince stepped closer and Will drew back in fear. He froze his advance but continued speaking.  _ ‘But so many were at the convergence of crisis where the Tiber Septim bloodline had been snuffed out by mortals foolish enough to ignore ancient safeguards and prophecies. We are beings of immeasurable power but even that is not infinite and once laws are laid into place in each reality, we too are bound by those laws. In the worlds where no dragonborn existed we needed to bring one or lose everything to the void. But none of the Aedra or Daedra were willing to cede such power to another. You see, a Dragonborn does not just stop Alduin, they shape the world around their decisions and allegiances. It has always been thus since the time of Miraak and when he and his kind faded a new bargain was struck with The bloodline of Tiber Septim. The power of the Gods can rise or fall based on such a beings actions.’ _

The second voice, feminine and arrogant pierced the Primal prince’s Monologue. _ ‘Otherworlders come to Nirn with no preset allegiances. This does not tilt the current balance of power in any one divine or Daedric direction.’ _

“Making us impartial participants until one of you wins our- and in this, my reality- my favor.” Will let the implications of everything they said spin in her head, but parallel worlds and inter-dimensional travel and divine alliances simply made her head hurt. She was a preschool teacher and a college student. This stuff was so far beyond her she couldn’t deal with it all at once so she decided to focus on what to her was the most immediate concern impacting her survival.

“Okay, so let’s get back to my training. How’s that work?”

_ ‘Simple.’  _ The arrogant and grating voice of what had to be Meridia answered.  _ ‘You choose one of us to see to your training and each night as you sleep, in this timeless space, or in our own realms, should you choose to allow it, you will be made strong enough to fight with the masters of this land.’  _

From the shadows of the twilit woods surrounding her, over a dozen beings in flowing robes with amorphous features stepped into the moonlight. All their voices seemed to speak as one louder than church bells ringing in her head and Will fell to the ground in pain clutching her ears.

_ ‘We are the daedric princes of the narrow alliance, one in purpose with the Aedra in this lone task to prepare the other-worlder to succeed in her doom driven quest. Choose who you will serve.” _ Will let out a scream, the loud pressure in her head like a weight on her existence.

“Shut up! All of you! That fucking hurts!” Silence fell, even the damnable whispers had stopped. Will looked up. She could recognize many of the daedric princes by their accoutrements based on her previous playthroughs of the game and study of the lore. She suspected the primal prince in skins and bones was Hircine, Lord of the Hunt. The womanly figure which seemed to glow and loom large was no doubt Meridia.

“You are Hircine, correct?” She asked turning to the prince who had stepped first from the forest to speak with her face to face.

_ ‘I am, daughter of Akatosh.’ _ He seemed pleased that she recognized him.

“Do I have to turn into a werewolf to be trained by you?” Affronted disdain seemed to ripple off him in waves, making her slightly uncomfortable.

_ ‘Should you prove yourself worthy of such a gift it could come to you in time. But I am the lord of the hunt and only the finest warriors may hunt with me in the afterlife. It is a privilege to be earned, not a curse bestowed on the unworthy.” _

“Yeah okay, don’t get your panties twisted, I’m in. You can teach me what I need to know.”

_ ‘So be it.’  _ The multitude whispered and the rest of them faded from her dream.

When it was just Will and the supremely sexy bit of eye-candy that was Hircine left in the gloom Will turned her attention to the daedric prince. “So how does this work?” She asked when he made no move to break the silence.

_ ‘Had you been born in Tamriel you would have been conditioned by its environment and warrior culture to have at least some skill by this point in your life. We will make up for that by teaching you in your sleep.’ _

“We?” Will questioned, wondering who else would be involved.

_ ‘Many are the Companions of Ysgramor who have passed into my hallowed hunting grounds. They shall help condition and train you so that you may run with the pack. They would feel… honored to train the dragonborn who will save the world.’ _

“Fucktastic, no pressure or anything.” Will giggled hysterically. “Oh. But won’t I be tired if I train all night in my sleep?”

_ ‘Tis the nature of this magic that time has no meaning. While your body rests on Nirn, your spirit will grow stronger in Oblivion.’ _

“ But what if-”

_ ‘Your training begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself mortal. You were not brought here to clean chamber pots.’ _

Will’s eyes popped open. She gazed up at the ceiling. Was that just a dream or could it truly be the explanation she had been looking for?

Arcadia seemed surprised at Will’s request for a job and politely but pointedly declined. She was willing to take any herbs or potion ingredients Will could harvest but she had no need for a shop girl. Belathor laughed her out of his store. Hulda gave her a pitying look but confirmed she had no need for more help. With Saadia and Olfina Graymane maintaining the inn and Ysolda pressuring her to give her more responsibility, there was simply no need for more help.There was no interest from any of the parents in the hold to pay her to either look after or teach their children and both Saffir and Amren were quite put out when she mentioned their daughter was kind of a pill and could definitely benefit with instruction in manners and maybe some parental attention. She never even got close to the Jarl as Proventus Avenicci intersected her and informed her that he did all the hiring of the household and there were currently no positions available and no the Jarl’s children were in no need of a nanny whatever that was. She was politely but firmly escorted from the halls of Dragonsreach.

Discouraged she went to sit before the shrine of Talos to eat her lunch and brood. As she sat eating, glaring thoughtfully at the shrine a small voice called out to her.

“Please lady, can you spare a coin?” It was Lucia, the orphan girl.

“Sure thing kid. I’ll do you one better, sit with me and I’ll share my meal with you.” The girl’s face lit up.

“Divines bless your kind heart.” She sat on the ground next to her and Will noted the thinness to her bones the tightness of her skin. Will opened one of the smushed oatmeal creme pies and handed it to her. The girl was looking at it curiously.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, I had it at the bottom of my pack and they got squooshed. Its a kind of cake with sweet creme frosting. I also have a hunk of cheese and a kiwi.”

“What’s a kiwi?” Lucia asked as she tentatively tasted the oatmeal creme pie.

“Its a kind of fruit, I don’t think they grow native to Skyrim. I sto- obtained it from a camp where I think some kind of foreign merchants were staying during my travels.” Lucia had stopped paying attention to her the moment she tasted the little debbie snack. She attacked it with such intensity that Will couldn’t resist laughing. Lucia shot her a look without slowing down.

“Careful, don’t eat the plastic, that part is not food.”

“What is plastic?” The girl asked through a mouthful of snack cake, sucking cream off the casing.

“That thing you’re sucking clean.” Will said wryly. A half grin resting on her face.

“I didn’t think it was food, I was just making sure to get it all.”

“Well I’m glad you liked it.” Will looked around the city. It was quiet, Heimskr having popped off for his own lunch and a couple of the townsfolk were walking the path surrounding the dying tree. Some guards were making their rounds, their heavy footfalls and clinking ringmail combining with the bird songs coming from the branches and nests surrounding them. The perfumes of Lavender and Dragonstongue wafted through the air on a gentle breeze blowing a light mist from the flowing waters of Whiterun’s irrigations . Danika was sitting with someone under the dead tree and whispering softly. Will perked up. She hadn’t tried to get a job at the temple of Kynereth. She was no nurse, but she knew first aid and a little about germ theory. That really was her last hope to get a steady job. She could chop wood and bring in herbs to Arcadia but that was subsistence living and the roads and surrounding wilds outside the city were not safe. She needed safety, stability, a bed that was hers and not just a room in the inn; she needed money to buy new clothes when the old ones wore out. She wanted to get a decent set of armor. And she’d like to buy more soaps. If her dream was a true indication of why she was here then her skills would improve over time but in the meantime she needed to be able to survive Skyrim in the waking world. 

Will had a few septims left. She gave one to Lucia, ruffling her hair. “Come find me at the inn tonight, I’ll feed you dinner as well.”

“What? Really! Thank you, thank you!” Lucia looked at her as if the sun rose and set on her word and Will couldn’t help the smile it brought to her face. Poor kid, nobody wanted her around. All the so called good people of Whiterun just ignored her. Will could relate. She knew exactly what that felt like. For the majority of her life she was a distasteful afterthought to people paid to care for her who often ignored her.

Like every other merchant or head of household she had approached in Whiterun Danica politely dashed her hopes as well. Healing, in Skyrim, was a calling and not a job. While Danica would never turn away a volunteer called to serve the goddess she had no means of paying her a wage. Discouraged, Will decided she’d better go chop some wood if she wanted to have enough money for her and Lucia’s dinner and another night’s stay at the inn. 

Will’s muscles were not accustomed to the motion of the ax. She chopped until she could barely lift the damn thing. She managed to split twenty logs in what felt like hours of chopping. She’d need ten more if she were going to feed Lucia and pay for a bath which, nose wrinkling in distaste at her own stench, she really needed after chopping all that wood. She began carrying the piles of it to the inn, selling them to Hulda. Will told her to keep the coin, she was chopping wood to stay at the inn again. Her shoulders were throbbing and her arms trembling and she had an ache that was only getting worse in her lower back. But a promise was a promise. So, after a brief rest, she was chopping more wood. She let the memory of Lucia’s smile spur her on to keep splitting logs even when every swing of the ax was an unbearable pain. It was while she was chopping that she realized she hadn’t tried to get a job at Jorrvaskr. Tilma was the housekeeper there, but she was the only one, and she was pretty old. Maybe she could use some help.

_ ‘You weren’t brought here to empty chamber pots.’ _ That voice. Those words spoken in her dreams echoed in her mind even now, but she shook them off. There was no dishonor in honest labor. Sure it was not glamorous to empty chamber pots but most of life was not glamorous. It was safe, honest work, and someone had to do it. It took much longer than she thought it would to finish splitting enough logs to pay for her and Lucia’s dinner. But she did finish eventually. As sore as she was though she knew she would be unable to keep up and continue this level of work again tomorrow. If she wanted to stay at the inn again she was going to have to try something different. 

It was too late to go to Jorrvaskr so she would try that first thing tomorrow morning. The shops would only be open for a brief while longer so after cashing out the remainder of the wood with Hulda, Will got out the ill fitting armor and sold it to Belethor in exchange for a strange dress in Stormcloak blue that seemed to have a unique design. It was made of a vibrant blue-green material that mimicked scales, form fitting without being revealing but left the arms free and designed in such a way that riding a horse would be easy due to the split in the layered material in the front. She needed the dress because having one set of clothes was impractical with all the sweating she was doing in her lone dress which was now in dire need of laundering.

Will entered the tavern tired, sweaty, disheveled and discouraged. What she needed to do was bathe, eat and sleep. What she wanted to do was kick a puppy and get shit faced. That wasn’t true. She didn’t really want to kick a puppy, she was just aggravated. She used to wonder why there were beggars in every city in Skyrim. Now she understood. While the province of Skyrim was teeming with opportunity for the adventurers and warriors and physically capable, opportunities to make an honest living in the cities and holds were limited, especially for those who held no land and had no money. Will simply put was not ready to face the dangers and privation of the roads around Whiterun. Wolves, bandits, trolls, skeevers, sabre cats, and bears- and even the occasional giant spiders stalked the unprepared and unwary; while as a video game this meant opportunity to level up, in reality it just meant different aspects of death in a grim choose your fate role play with deadly consequences. Will was not a warrior, she had no skills that would enable her to brave the wilds of Skyrim. She knew she was weak. She knew she was no match for the predicament she found herself in but she was desperate not to end up as Brenuin’s female counterpart in Whiterun.

As she bathed that evening she found herself hoping that the strange dream was true. That by some miracle of fate or divine intervention she would be given a life hack to up her character stats so that she could indeed endure, survive, and yes, thrive, in this new life that was hers. She would need to wash her clothes tomorrow, the dress stank of sweat and she was on her last pair of clean underwear. As she put on her new dress and combed out her wet hair she realized she would need to find out how laundry was done. She had some vague notion of beating her clothes on river rocks, rubbing it with soap and wringing out the excess water but for all she knew television was a liar and that was a ridiculous way to go about laundering one’s clothes. In the game there was no sign of how laundry was taken care of.

“Hulda, how does someone go about doing laundry in Whiterun?” She asked as she sat at the bar. The evening crowd had yet to trickle in, a couple of mercenaries were at the back trable, as was the strange dwarf that was not a dwarf. Saadia was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal and Mikael was in the back tuning his instrument and practicing some instrumental pieces that Will found she preferred over listening to his voice.

“In the lower levels of Dragon’s reach there is an underground section of the Whiteriver. Part of it is channeled into the city water system for the wells and reservoirs but the part that leads out to the plains to the Grey river is where we do our washing. It’s also where the public baths are.” Will was startled.

“Wait, public baths? You mean there is a place to bathe that won’t cost five septims a day?” Hulda laughed at Will’s slightly indignant expression, her eyes crinkling in delight.

“Well of course lass, the White river waters are cold but free to any who would partake and the underground currents are slow so no need to worry you’ll be carried underground, but the bath at the Bannered Mare is hot and private, though ‘tis true it is more of a luxury. Also, I think you bathe more than most of the folk here in Whiterun if last night and today are any indication.”

“Where I come from bathing daily is a part of respecting yourself and maintaining good hygiene.”

“’Seems a strange custom to me.” Hulda surmised.

“So do you just get there by entering the main hall?” Hulda laughed again.

“Where are you from that you would think such things. The Jarl lives in Dragonsreach conducting hold business and matters of governance in his main hall, the entire town could not simply traipse through his dining hall to manage their laundry and personal ablutions. There is an entrance to the west of the main keep that leads to the lower levels. Perhaps you could have the orphaned girl take you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Hulda.” Will said and instructed her to send Saadia with two meals, two milks, and two slices of apple pie for her when Lucia got there.” Hulda’s face seemed to soften with approval when Will mentioned getting dinner for the girl. She assured her that it would be taken care of. Will moved to take a seat by the fire, As she drank her ale she began slowly humming the tune Always, from the Tarzan movie. She was running her fingers through her hair to help the fire dry it out when her ruminations were interrupted by the bard as he took a seat on the bench next to her.

“Greetings milady, I am a bard by trade, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the exotic melody you were humming just now. Perchance, is there a song that goes with it?” Will side-eyed the Nord. He was a womanizer and a scoundrel in game and a pretty awful bard in real life. She briefly debated the merits of keeping the song to herself for fear he would mangle it, but the more mercenary side of her nature asserted itself and she wondered if she could barter the tune for coin.

“I would be delighted to share but I find myself in need of funds. Could you make it worth my while?” She met his eyes, keeping her face carefully blank. Mikael grinned at her.

“Ah, a woman who knows the true worth of a good song. If you would teach me the tune and the lyrics I could put it to use and share a portion of my earnings.”

“And how sizable a portion are we talking?” Will asked, wondering exactly how much he would be willing to pay.

“I pull in twenty-five septims each day as long as I perform. If I use your song I could share three septims.”

“Make it five and buy my dinner tomorrow night and you have a deal.”

“I’ll pay you three septims if I use the song, a one time payout of two septims for taking the time to teach it to me and I will buy your dinner tomorrow night.” Will eyed him as she considered his offer before extending her hand.

“Mikael you got a deal.” 

“Wonderful!” He grinned excitedly. They went to the backroom and Mikael pulled out a quill, some ink and a journal so he could write down the lyrics. It took several tries for Will to recall all the words. Mikael was not impressed when she had him change around a few lines as she remembered some of the lyrics out of sequence, but when he was done he then played some of the music on his lute. Will found her heart near to bursting as the strains of one of her favorite disney songs poured like a warm hug from the strings of his instrument. He still sounded terrible when he sang it, but he was still able to do better than she could at keeping the song in one register rather than alternating between two as she was forced to do when she sang it. When they finished practicing to Mikael’s satisfaction they both returned to find the dining room significantly more full than when they had left. Lucia was waiting for her and waved brightly, grinning eagerly as Will joined her at the little table. As Saadia brought over their meal Will was interested to note that Vilkas, Farkas, and Ria were all sitting by the fire. Farkas grinned at her, raising his mug to her and elbowing his brother in the ribs, gesturing towards her. Vilkas looked at her before nodding dismissively turning his attention to the bard. Will found herself caught in the midst of a half hearted wave and a smile, slightly stung that Vilkas dismissed her so easily. He was easily her favorite Companion in the game but did not seem even remotely interested in her.

“I brought you these.” Lucia said shyly before placing a small handful of dragonstongue blossoms on the table.

“Oh, sweetheart, these are beautiful, but I want you to keep them and tomorrow morning when Arcadia’s Cauldron opens up sell them to her. She’ll give you two septims apiece for them and that can at least get you a meal.” Lucia seemed torn between disappointment and excitement.

“But I wanted them for you. As a gift for being so kind to me.” She looked down at her plate. “It’s the first time I haven’t felt hungry since I came here.” Will was startled and a little upset.

“They let you go hungry?” She demanded, indignant.

“Hulda will feed me scraps at the end of the evening, but sometimes there’s not much left and I have to share with Brenuin. He’s the one who told me to beg by the temple. He looks out for me sometimes and shows me the best places to sleep if Hulda doesn’t want me to stay by the fire.” Lucia spoke matter of factly. She may as well have been speaking about the color of the sky or the weather for all the emotion she showed. Will considered this, trying to control her own outrage.

“And how often does that happen?” Lucia shrugged, oblivious to Will’s burgeoning temper.

“If the weather’s warm enough, or of the tavern is too full she usually kicks me out, but she lets me sleep in the corner around back behind the water barrels.”

“You know,” Will said, her voice deceptively soft as she tried to hide her feelings from the little girl, “I have rented the upstairs room for the night. The bed is pretty big, I wouldn’t mind sharing it if you would be comfortable with that.” Lucia’s eyes grew huge and she began to tear up.

“I haven’t slept on a bed since… since momma and papa died!” Will’s mind flashed back to cold nights on dark streets, nights spent sleeping in abandoned buildings, sharing space with rats and strays and other forgotten children. She remembered the times she had been forced to sleep under the stairs outside the apartment building of one of her foster family’s anytime their grown biological children would come visit them. How, even as a teenager, the loneliness and fear had been crippling. At least she had school to go to the next day to sleep and get something to eat. Lucia had no refuge from her circumstances, no safe place to go. Will was silent for several heartbeats, finding it hard to speak past the lump in her throat at Lucia’s obvious gratitude, but she smiled in shared affection and they finished their meal. After Saadia cleared their dishes away Lucia looked longingly towards Carlotta’s daughter and Will smiled gently, reading her mind.

“Go on, play with your friend. I’m not going anywhere and I won’t change my mind.”

“Thanks!” Lucia smiled and she leapt up to go to the other girl. Will watched her fondly. Waving at the girls as they looked over at her, Lucia obviously excitedly explaining her good luck.

Suddenly her attention was redirected as Ria took the seat across from her and Farkas and Vilkas pulled chairs over to her table and sat down with her.

“Saadia, a round of ale for the table please.” Vilkas requested.

“Of course, Companion.” She answered.

“So, how are you enjoying Whiterun Will?” Asked Ria, smiling engagingly. Will smiled back politely.

“I’m not. Not really. No one’s hiring so getting a job was a no go. This town lets that little girl go hungry and sometimes has her sleeping outside in the elements. I don’t know why but- well, I expected more from Whiterun!” Ria’s smile dimmed. Farkas and Vilkas studied her curiously from across the table.

“And what would you have them do? She doesn’t belong to anyone here, she’s an orphan.” Farkas stated baldly.

“Whiterun is by no means a poor community! But what the rich do and what they do not do with that wealth is a good indication of their character. As of now I find the character of this community sorely lacking.” Will’s voice was ice cold as she glared in challenge at the large man in front of her. They were interrupted briefly as Saadia brought them their ale.

“Aye brother, you were right. This one has heart.” Vilkas took a sip of his ale studying her over the rim of his cup. “But heart does not a warrior make, and good intentions cannot make you a Companion.”

“You told him about me?” Will asked, blushing under their combined scrutiny.

“We all did!” Ria enthused. “We had hoped you would come by Jorrvaskr to speak to Kodlak. When you didn’t we saw you around town so we decided to come to you. We brought Vilkas because he’s the master of arms. He’s used to training others, even those with limited skills.”

“Aye, and Aela and my brother both spoke highly of you and how you helped them take down a giant, striking the killing blow even, using a thrown stone.”

“It was nothing really.” Will stuttered in abashed delight.

“I’m inclined to agree with you after seeing you.”

“Come on brother. Give her a chance!” Farkas argued. Will’s mouth dropped open, slightly stung by Vilkas’ words.

“I’m not trying to be mean lass, but look here,” He reached out and gently took her arm in his hand, laying it over the table and flipping it over, exposing her forearm. “Ria can you put your arm next to hers?” He asked softly. Ria did as he asked, frowning as she did so, obviously wanting to argue like Farkas. “Look here, at the shape of Ria’s arm, here run your hand around her wrist and down the arm, then do the same thing to yours.” Will frowned and did as he asked, and immediately noted a thick hardness on the bone of Ria’s wrist and the thick tension of her forearm, all of which was distinctly lacking from her own.

“Oh my.” She whispered disheartened.

“Indeed.” Vilkas nodded, releasing her arm. Will drew it in to her chest, cradling it defensively.

“So what, is there no hope for me?” Will whispered brokenly. Farkas eyed his brother in askance even as Vilkas firmly shook his head with a finality that caused Ria’s shoulders to slump.

“Ria has been holding a sword in her hand no doubt since she learned to walk. She’s practiced for years and she still needs training, but she has the basics including the strength to wield a sword. Lass, you’ve never held a sword a day in your life. You’ve the hands and arms of a pampered noblewoman. Go home. Find yourself a husband. Whatever drove you from your soft life, go back if you can.”

Will’s eyes widened and her face burned at the pity and barely veiled contempt she thought she sensed from Vilkas’ tone. She stood abruptly, her face hot, vibrant blue eyes shooting sparks at the smaller of the twins. “Well you better pray to your divines you’re wrong about me!” She hissed, “I’m the only one that stands between you and the end of the world! I’ve been on my own as long as I can recall! I may not have ever held a sword but I am stronger than you think. I don’t need a-a man! To define me! To protect me! Screw you! You don’t get to sit in judgment of me! You don’t know me!” She grabbed her ale and gulped it down trying to cool off. Vilkas stared at her calmly. Farkas and Ria refused to look at her. This just pissed her off even more.

“You know what, I appreciate the concern. I thank you for the offer, interview,” and here she wiggled her fingers between the three of them, “whatever this was, but I don’t need your charity or your pity or your judgments. I’m out.” Will pushed the chair in, a little more harshly than she intended and stormed as calmly as she could toward the ladder to her room. Lucia saw her get up and rushed to catch up. Will smiled tightly down at her, taking her by the hand and leading her up the stairs. She hoped that her dream was real and not the fevered imaginings of a mind struggling to understand the impossible thing that had happened to her.

She changed into her top from home and lay down under the blankets grinning over at Lucia and patting the other side of the bed. The girl needed no further encouragement. As Will drifted off to sleep she could hear Mikael playing Always from the tavern below. The crowd seemed to enjoy it. Her heart, heavy from the discussion with the Companions, lightened slightly at something familiar, from home, lulling her to sleep.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPIC TRAINING MONTAGE. Hircine is a sexy Beast! Literally! He has fur!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I procrastinated the crap out of this how the heck do you write a training montage?! I also wanted it to be done in a single chapter so that the next chapter begins her true adventure in Skyrim. I had to do a fair amount of research for this, I skimmed the art of war, learned how to correctly spell nocking from an archery website. I had to look up Hircine and his hunting grounds to determine the setting and the creatures Will would encounter there. Kinnara are so pretty. I used all the beasts from a fanfiction video on youtube because them critters was awesome! I found a mod Hircines hunting grounds and it sucked because the armor was male only and that headdress alone was amazing! Eventually Will is going to go back to win that pretty druid armor made of leaves on the nexus in a hunt for Hircine, but that is going to be a while yet. So there is this mod called skytweaks and it basically lets you cheat or whatever customizing everything. I used it to give Will her racial ability. See she is a Nord but in my head she is an earthling American, so I got rid of her racial bonus 50% frost resistance and gave her 50% disease resistance and 35% magic resistance. I intend to rp that she has difficulty doing any magic at all and that is because she is not from Nirn in reality I usually ignore magic except for restoration and that walk on water spell which may or may not be a mod. I sincerely hope that if anyone is reading this they enjoy this sneak peak into my head.

Chapter 5: Training Montage

One of the first things Will learned upon becoming aware of her world space in Oblivion was that it was just like waking up in the real world. One moment she drifted on a sea of lethargy in her bed in Whiterun, and the next she opened her eyes to the dim lighting of the Twilight Vale. When she awoke this time however there were no hostile eyes gazing from the shadows or ageless whispers to pierce her awareness. She was nonplussed to find no one in the Vale with her. Was this to be her training? To putter about and muck around on her own?

Suddenly there was the sound of giggling. A burst of gilded sparkles erupted at eye level and with a startled gasp Will backed up, warily. The diminutive form of a Tinkerbell-like creature fluttered before her. It did not speak but she distinctly heard it whisper her name.

“Willhelmina Jones, the Lord of the hunt sends his greetings and bade me guide you to the hunting grounds to begin your training.” The voice was not the tinkling of bells as one might expect of a fairy, more a playful hiss of air- equal parts mischief and danger. Will found herself intrigued by the sprite.

“And who are you?” She asked smiling curiously. 

“I am sylph. We are the messengers of Hircine. Come.” Will found herself sprinting after a rapidly disappearing series of golden blinks in space- appearing and disappearing at rapidly expanding intervals.

“Come on, half a minute will you? I’m not that fast!” Will irritably complained. Another flash of light and the creature- sylph was in front of her at eye level.

“You’ve a lot to learn if you cannot manage to follow on your own feet.”

“Yeah, well, that’s kinda the point isn’t it?” Will muttered. Sylph crooked her head in disapproval before winking ahead, returning periodically to lead Will forward. Will stopped on the edge of the forest in her realm at a rip in reality. It opened up from the gleaming moonlight into a warm sunlit glade, rich with life and color, the edges blending sunlight and moonlight together on the uncontoured edges of the portal. Will found herself smiling in awed delight as she stepped through the torn veil between realms.

“Welcome to the hunting grounds Willhelmina Jones. Your trainer and guide will be with you soon.” And in a flash of glitter and light sylph was gone.

Will walked through the lush field of knee high grasses, her eyes drinking in the wild beauty of the land. Rich golden wheat stretched from the earth, to delicately dance in the wind in tandem with unidentifiable grasses of green and white and purple, many had feathery tufts on the ends. Butterflies in shades of blue and orange and pink filled the air, fluttering in delicate accompaniment with dandelion seeds; hills in deep burnt umber rose up like great castle walls of natural stones discolored by earth and time. Rabbits and foxes leapt through the grasses and flowers, Elk and deer- some walking sedately, some frolicsome and free, leaping with abandon across the field and into the distant forest ahead, or up the wooded hill to the far left. The hunting grounds were teeming with life and beauty that was a delight to her senses, a song to her soul. 

With a wild laugh Will took off at a sprint, running through a sea of grass, startling flocks of birds into flight from amid the floral fields. Her laughter rose with them as she ran- this time not with fear, but with wonder, drinking in the natural beauty of her surrounds as a dehydrated and dying man in a desert would the first drops of rain through sun-parched lips. 

She spun in circles, overcome with the majesty of it all! No wonder Aela and Skjor wanted to go to the hunting grounds when they died! It was the most beautiful sight Will had ever experienced. Tears pricked her eyes as they mapped the land, cataloging the flora and fauna, absorbing the striking image of earth and sky meeting in hues of green and blue and brown and gold, to paint a masterpiece for memory to be plucked from rosy recall when long nights stretched into boring, silent shadows, with nothing to do but think. 

“Hello Other-Worlder.” Will whirled to the voice that seemed to appear at her back and her mouth dropped open in awe. Before her stood a creature of silver starlight and beauty, of strength and myth. A female centaur with a silvery hide and long flowing hair and tail of platinum blond hair stood before her. The human half of her was naked, her breasts thrust forward high and full and flawless; the rosy pink tips of unabashed aureoles soft and slack in the warm breeze . Sprouting from her long flowing mane of hair were two ivory horns- like those that a deer might have, on either side of her head; each with multiple forked palms; each pointing upwards. Her forelegs had thick white fur and her hooves were silver things of menace and grace. She quirked a white brow at Will, a small smile playing at the edge of her delicate pink mouth. Her ears were that of a horse but glowed with the same otherworldly white light as the rest of her hide. 

Her face could only be described as angelic, milk and rose a painter’s delicate brush of color along full round cheeks and small pointed chin. Will felt a pang of envy looking at the creature before her. Never before had she beheld such otherworldly beauty outside of fantasy art. No mortal woman could compete and no mortal could resist were the creature’s beauty turned to sinister seduction.

“Are you made from moonlight?” Will breathed in wonder when she found her voice. As pickup lines go it was not the worst she could have offered. She met the creatures bemused gaze respectfully avoiding looking at her naked bosom, at least directly. The creature laughed in delight.

“It pleases me that you would think so. I am a Kinnara and I am to help you become strong so that you may fulfill the obligations of your destiny.” The Kinnara handed her a necklace made of sinew and carved bone. “Don this, and never take it off in these lands.”

“Why not?” Will asked, taking it from her and putting it on over her head, pulling her hair through the necklace so that it hung round her neck and rested in the valley of her breasts.

“This is lord Hircine’s token. It will ward you from the true death in these lands, for to die amid the great hunt is to remain a part of it for eternity. All who die here are irrevocably bound to this realm and may only leave at the whim of the prince himself.” As she spoke, Will noticed that she did indeed have some semblance of armor on, graceful waves of silver shoulder pauldrons crested up and out, appearing more ornamental than protective, though they were obviously made of metal. Around her waist and trailing over the forefront of her horse half were layers of the same metal with runic carvings etched into the armor. This part at least looked like armor. Will could not understand why she would wear armor over her front but leave her tits out like that.

“Well that’s good to know. At least I won’t die.”

“Do not misunderstand Other-Worlder. It is the true death you are protected from; but these are the lands of The Great Hunt, and you will be hunted. No doubt you will die. You will experience the swift onslaught of battle, the pain of being cut and pierced should you falter in your training. Lord Hircine believes the pain will create incentive to absorb all you need to learn.” Will recoiled in horror.

“So I can die- but not really?”

“Yes.” The Kinnara answered.

“Great.” Will felt slightly queasy, her previous enchantment taking on an edge of fear. “So do you have a name?” The creature laughed.

“I do, but you may call me Kinnara. It is unlikely any others of my kind will bother with you while you are here.” Will nodded.

“I understand.”

“Then let us begin. Tell me Other-Worlder, what do you see that urges you to so easily cast off your caution as you gaze upon this glen in the midst of the hunting grounds.”

“I see nature. Beauty. The way it maybe should have been if my people had not destroyed most of it where I am from.”

“Ah, so you are fooled by the deception then.” Kinnara began trotting forward and Will was forced to jog to keep up with her.

“What do you mean?” 

“All battle is based on a lie. Make the enemy underestimate you. Make the enemy overestimate you. Appear helpless. Appear invincible, become invisible. Fool the perceptions of your enemy and move in for the kill. Nature is no different. And survival is the greatest battle of them all. Observe. You see the seeds floating amidst the sea of grass, yes?” Will nodded. “Some of those seeds will harmlessly deposit themselves on the hide of an animal, perhaps in the hair or on the clothes of an unwary traveler. But some-” and here she plucked a delicate purple bit of fluff with a teardrop shaped seed on the end- “some if ingested or inhaled germinate in the gut of the unknowing animal, a flesh fertilizer to carry its spore to new ground, eating the creature from within.” Will paled at the implications.

“Is there a way to make sure that doesn’t happen- I don’t think I inhaled any, but I was so happy, and I wasn’t paying attention!” Kinnara met her eyes, glad to see that her warning was well heeded.

“One thing you can take comfort in is the certainty that there is no ailment or sickness or pain on Nirn that does not have it’s antidote found in the wilds of this land. The Aedra and Daedra created this word for men and mer. Now you are not mer but though you are no native to the land of Tamriel you are man, and to every affliction there is a cure if you but know where to look.”

Time passed, and yet, it didn’t; and Will grew neither hungry nor thirsty as she traveled with Kinnara. Kinnara taught her the land. Every plant had a name and each plant had many purposes to be discovered. They spent long ages traveling the daylight trails, crossing vast grasslands and rocky trails high in the mountains. Kinnara’s hooves danced over crags with the sure-footed agility of a mountain goat. Will was forced to scrape and grasp and crawl up and over rock faces that showed no regard for her tender fingers and untrained hands. Thick calluses grew as they moved, their pace became swifter than Will could have thought possible as they ascended from green crested mountains draped in fog, to peaks capped with frost and snow. 

These too they crossed. Kinnara was relentless, conditioning Will’s body to build her strength and stamina with the same unabating intensity she conditioned Will’s mind and spirit. The centaur was a font of knowledge and wisdom. She was the epitome of the huntress. Aela herself would be in awe of her. 

They sheltered in caves from terrifying storms and crossed wet marshlands thick with mud and rank water, and always there was more to learn, more lessons to be had and reviewed and mastered. Will learned when in the marsh to cover herself in mud to prevent many of the plague carrying flies from biting her. When she was not thorough she was tasked with creating a potion to heal her sickness using materials found in the same swamp she contracted it. Kinnara instructed her on how to use the mortar and pestle and how to create a rough, rudimentary water purification alchemy station to render the most strength from the plants and creatures she used in creating her potions. She learned how to test small portions of unknown ingredients to try to learn their properties, how to listen to her body and catalog their effects. 

Kinnara instructed Will on the placement of her feet, on understanding and feeling her connection to the land below her, teaching her to see things that were unseen, hidden in the deception of natures murdering wonder. She taught her that marking herself with warpaint was the same as some insects marking themselves with bright colors. It was one more way to perpetuate the deception in battle. War paints and their patterns could help her to blend in with the environment or help terrify her enemy by making her appear more savage and fierce and therefore, more deadly than she actually was. 

Kinnara were exceptional warriors- though according to her guide they were shadows of the males of their species, the Kinar. Kinnara made Will shape a knife from stone and stick, sap and vine. With the self forged blade she fashioned a spear, burning the tip to harden for strength. With the spear she was taught to hunt the creatures inhabiting wood and field, marsh and vale, and mountain trails. 

Will was hesitant. Having grown up on Disney films where rabbits and deer were Thumpers and Bambis she was loath to harm the adorable creatures. Kinnara was quick to school her, her own self made spear with flint tipped blade flung with force and fury to impale a large doe leaping across the field they hunted.

“You need to begin the process of blooding. You are from a world where men are the hunted. You are a prey animal that must don the guise of the predator. You need to experience a weapon in the flesh of the living. You need to feel it as you impale it, become resistant to your own innate horror to the act of killing. We begin with the food animals of your kind. When you return to Nirn how will you eat if you will not kill? This is the way of things. To survive one must learn to kill. These are the spirits of honored creatures who gave their lives in sacrifice to the hunt. They will return to life with each new dawn to be hunted once more.” Kinnara was patient but uncompromising. The hunt was sacred in these lands to prey and predator alike. Will bent to her will and learned what was needed. She learned to skin and prepare her own game much to Kinnara’s amusement and her own disgust.

Will was taught to use the bow as a Kinnara could- and that is to say it became an extension of her physical self. It was the bow and dagger she spent most of her time with in this place where time was voided. Will learned that a warrior that could go unseen, was the warrior that could claim victory. As her steps became silenced and her aim became true, Kinnara began leading her against the beasts of the hunting grounds. Most prolific were the Shadow lurkers, savage gremlin looking creatures appearing as a cross between rabbits and crocodiles that attacked in packs. They would swarm from the tall grasses of the lush savannas attacking with claw and hoof, for they walked on two legs- a mix of scale and furs, creatures of nightmare with long deadly antlers. Will paid for her lack of resolve once with her life. Without Hircine’s token she would have died a true death and the agony of her goring was excruciating. When the Shadow lurkers departed Kinnara walked up to her and though aware of all that was happening Will was unable to respond. Gradually Will regained control of her body and discovered it fully healed.

“And now you know.” Kinnara intoned without judgement. “Hesitate or delay, and you give the advantage to your enemy. Strike swiftly, without warning, without mercy, a wraith of shadow and death before the enemy is even aware you are there. Kill them or they will kill you and on Nirn, there is no coming back from that. My lord Hircine has not the power to sway your true death from claiming you outside of this realm.” 

Will sobbed into the Kinnara’s chest and Kinnara held her as she did this. Dying, whether for the first time or the hundredth was no small matter to be so casually dismissed. It was not the last time she died. As she continued to grow stronger and learn, she did cry less and less when it happened.

As they explored the hunting grounds Will learned about the creatures of that realm of Oblivion, the threats to be wary of, the neutral targets, and the peaceful denizens of Hircine’s realm. Sylph, like the fairy that had delivered her to the hunting grounds, were messengers of Hircine. They could move so quickly they were invisible to most. They enjoyed toying with mortals, allowing them to see just a flash. Many will o’ the wisps were just sylph having fun at the expense of mortals. Though they loved to play, they took their duties to the Prince of the Hunt seriously, and could always be counted on to deliver his messages.

Some beasts were the same as those found on Nirn, the giant spiders, wolves, and bears, the different species of trolls and even skeevers. Will learned to dodge, to attack, to kill and to suppress her fear long enough to fight. Bears had a hard time climbing the large boulders so she could escape them by doing that herself and attacking them from above. The spiders were easily killed with flaming arrows or even regular arrows and were not difficult to handle one at a time or from a distance. The trick was rolling out of the way of their venom blobs. When facing a troll run shoot and run some more. They were slow and stupid but one blow from them could kill her easily.

In the forests Will grew to be watchful for the near silent explosion of fur and fang that hearkened the attack of the Night Hoppers. Their movements were so swift they were soundless. These creatures of spite and rage were spiked and clawed and given to toying with their prey before moving in for the kill. More active at night- which Will had yet to experience- they were regularly a deadly nuisance during the day. Will learned to grit her teeth through the pain of wounds both light and deep, she learned to keep her head and manage her body's needs while maintaining her focus on the hunt.

Kinnara taught her to read the path, to see in broken twigs and flattened foliage the clear marks of her prey's passing. The deadly Green lurkers lived in tribes in the woodlands, they looked like the wraith from StarGate Atlantis but with horns. They did not like to have their territories infringed upon so Will and Kinnara mostly managed to avoid encountering them- except from a distance, down wind so they could remain undetected. 

The two of them lingered for a time among the leaves of the forest with a group of Fylians. Great tree women that could bend the forest arboreals to their will. Will wondered if they were the Ent wives Tolkien wrote about in his tales and then, thinking of the Lord of the rings, Will fell into a depression Kinnara could not help but notice.

“What troubles you Other-Worlder?” She asked as they rested from the battle practice of dodging the forest controlled by the friendly dryads.

“If I am to believe the daedra and Aedra, I am the only one of my kind here. Sometimes the thought of all we were- my world, my people- it weighs on me, the loss of so much lore and song, history and invention and culture. Kinnara, we walked on the moon! Do you know of any other world where that has happened? Any other race of people so clever?” Her centaur mentor merely listened in silence, her eyes pools of compassion and understanding.

“The Fylians… they made me remember one of the greatest stories of my people. One of our authors wrote of tree herders. The Ents, they were called, a people composed of ancient trees that could uproot themselves so they could walk the land, tasked with preserving and nurturing the wild forests and speaking life into new woods as the world grew old around them. As time passed into memory the Ent wives left the wild forests for the more tame fields and orchards of the west and passed from the annals of history. The Ents were ever longing for their lost beloveds and dreamed of a day when at last they would be found or return.”

“And did they find them? These Ent wives?” Kinnara questioned.

“The story never said. And Kinnara it is just a fraction, the tiniest part of a much bigger tale it was one of the best and it is gone. Lost forever, like the Ent wives.” Will was garbed in glum melancholy, unaware that around her the forest and the Fylians had stopped to listen to the story she told.

“Untrue.” Kinnara stated with a firm confidence that caused Will to snap her gaze to her face in question. “At least a part of it lives on in you.” Will began to shake her head.

“No, I can retell it, sure, but it was a masterpiece! The way that it was written, the way that it was performed, retold and enacted- I can never capture that magic and convey it to others so they will know the story as I know the story!” Will’s impassioned cry was full of the weight of her unmourned loss and the invisible responsibility she felt because of it.

“Maybe not,” Kinnara acknowledged gently, “but you can retell it. The story can have new life again. The words will be new, maybe even clumsy at first, but you are stubborn Other-Worlder and you are fierce in your conviction. Let this story, which moves you so much, be told again. I believe in you. I believe you can do this.” Kinnara’s voice was wise and earnest and unexpectedly brought a rush of hot tears to her eyes.

“You say this tale had song, yes? I am a Kinnara, our musics can cure the blessings of werebeasts were we to be so cruel as to rob them of their gift. Share with me a song from your story and I will put it to tune so you may once again gift your ears with the musical notes of home.” 

Will was overcome with emotion but proceeded to warble her broken way through parts of the dwarven song from the first Hobbit movie. When Kinnara drew out a long, strange, platinum flute and the first pure clear notes pierced the sun dappled glade where they sat, it was as if a fire had been lit in Will’s heart. She shared with her equine companion the tune of _ May it Be _ by Enya, and in a furious rush of words uttered in hushed tones explained the meaning of the lyrics, that even the smallest and least impressive had promise within themselves and could rise up to do great things. Will explained that the elves held the light of Earendil sacred and it was meant not as just a magical light in the dark but as a metaphor to keep hope alive even when things get dark. Will could not help but note the parallels between the story and the description she was giving to the song and the fantastical shift that had happened to her own life. 

Will coached Kinnara through the tune  _ Into the West _ and she wept with equal measures of both joy and grief as she tried and failed to clearly explain the connection between the lyrics and death and a love that does not die. How she felt they applied to Boromir who died in redemption and also to Legolas longing for the sea and the Dwarf who went with him to the undying lands with a possible hope in his stalwart heart that he would see again the Lady of the Golden Wood who won his heart with her beauty. 

It was good to be in that timeless place, learning the skills to survive; alchemy, the bow, strength and speed and stamina; the skills of a hunter, a tracker, a predator; and it was also a place to begin letting go of what she had lost, sifting through the wreckage of what was gone to salvage what she could. Music filled the woods, the Fylians accompanying the flute with their own buzzing hums. 

“Could you teach me the words?” Will looked up from her silent sobs to see a tall, lithe Nord woman approach from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Deep in her grief though she was, an age had passed since Will had come, new to this world, and her training had changed her. In a swift and fluid motion she rolled into a defensive crouch, arrow nocked, bow drawn, eyes narrowed.

“Peace, stranger. I am Toryli Bloodblade, once moon-born huntress to the Companions- in my days of the living. I bear you no malice. I was drawn here amidst my hunt by the most curious and strange musics. And what should I find, but one of the beasts whose playings can mean the removal of my kinds blessing. Yet still was I drawn toward you and these marvelous musics, for I also fancied myself a bit of a bard in my day. I would dearly love to learn these songs and take them back to my people.” Toryli seemed so earnest, but the art of battle was deception and she could be making herself look earnest before moving in for the kill. Will briefly looked to Kinnara who was watching her with a strangely approving warmth. Kinnara nodded slightly. Will lowered her bow, releasing her pull on the arrow but not completely letting down her guard. 

“I would be honored to teach the forebear of Aela the huntress, descendant of Hrotti Blackblade the songs of my homeland.” Toryli’s eyes flashed and her teeth gleamed as the pride of her line was put into words.

And so it was that the duo became a trio. Kinnara continued to teach her; but Toryli began to train her in the use of sword and shield. She also served as a release for many of the songs of Earth, she delighted in learning the lyrics, questioning the intent, making connections to her own experiences and then putting her own twists on the songs. If a song was part of a story she would beg to hear it in order to create context for the song. 

Sometimes Will would just listen in contentment as Toryli regaled her with the Nord woman’s version of the stories- such as Disney’s The Little Mermaid. Of course in her version Ariel was fierce and proud, tempestuous as the sea and fierce as the storm. Prince Eric and Ariel fought side by side to take down the Sea witch, breaking the horn holding Ariel’s imprisoned voice and ripping Ursala’s heart from her chest in a mighty hunt held in the name of Lord Hircine. Will was particularly pleased with the Nord’s retelling of that tale.

It was with some surprise that a time came when Will found herself standing once more at the portal to her own realm of Oblivion. This time the view was one of somber nightfall rather than joyful day and above the forested landscape of her twilit hideaway a mournful moon, a pale orb heralding an end to daylight.

“Is it time then? For me to go back?” Kinnara smiled and nodded.

“Wilhelmina Other-Worlder, you have spent a brief lifetime wandering the endless day of the hunting grounds at our side. You have learned what you need to survive in Skyrim. I caution you though, for though your training has been intense and you have learned much you still have far to go before you will be ready to face the world eater and defend Tamriel from his spite. Continue your training. It will not be hard.” Here she paused, then added with a sardonic twist to her lips, “You will get better or you will die. Skyrim is a harsh place as you are well aware. But I know you are ready for what life has to hand you.”

“Indeed sister, I would be honored to stand beside you in battle. With more training and experiences I know you will grow into a fine warrior.” Toryli Bloodblade embraced her. “Tell that great-great-however many greats- grand daughter of mine that I am proud of the honor she brings to her line and the joy she finds in Hircine’s gift. I look forward to the day I can hunt beside her with the rest of our kin.” 

“I will.” Will said. She turned to Kinnara, “So does this mean I am done training in the Hunting Grounds?”

Kinnara smiled a fierce and wild grin, “Not at all, but next time you come here you will hunt alone and during the night. Never have you experienced a more pure experience than the night hunt in Hircine’s realm, it will be a true test of your prowess and power.”

“Will I see you again?” Will whispered worried that this meant her time with the Kinnara whom she had grown quite fond of was at an end. The beautiful centaur walked forward and bent her head low, brushing Will’s forehead with her own, cupping the back of her head in her hands.”

“If ever you return to the Hunting grounds in daylight, hold Hircine’s token to your heart and say my name. I will hear you and I will come. We are friends, Willhelmina Other-worlder.”

“We are!” Will whispered back returning the fond embrace, her heart light now that she knew this was not good bye forever. With a fond smile and a wave farewell Will stepped through the portal and straight into the arms of the Prince of the Hunt.

  
  


“Oh my!” She squeaked. He was all male and mystery and primacy. He was toned and muscled and- and furred? Will squinted and stepped closer to him, ignoring the chuckle that rumbled from his chest causing her knees to go weak. Yep, that was fur and there was a pattern on the fur, a blend of spots and stripes. Did that make her a furry she wondered with unease?

“Careful little rabbit, though you look like you want to eat me up with your eyes I daresay you might tempt me to eat you.”

“Sorry!” She squeaked again. “I mean your just soooo-” she gestured to his entire body.

“I am aware.” His voice was deep and highly amused. “Are you pleased with your training?”

“Y-yes. I have learned a lot. I don’t feel like a walk on the roads of Skyrim will kill me now.”

“So no more nonsense about mucking someones stables or cleaning their chamber pots then?” He was smirking, she couldn’t see it through the bone helmed mask he wore but she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No. That will not make me stronger.” He exuded a possessive pleasure at her response. 

“I see you have indeed learned. You now have a sporting chance in this world. You are on level in skill and knowledge with many of your peers. Some, you even surpass in some areas, as you may soon discover. I enjoy a good hunt when the battlefield is fair, but fair will not defeat Alduin. Hone your skills little rabbit.”

“I will.” She said slightly annoyed. Did he think she was going to sit on her laurels? His voice dropped an octave forcing her to lean closer.

“I have one more gift for you Daughter of Akatosh and child of Earth.”

“Oh?” She queried her interest piqued. A rumbling laugh erupted from his chest and it seemed to curl up and around all the parts of her that made her a woman and she felt her toes curling in her boots.

“Know you the blessings of each race on Nirn, their unique powers?”

“I know the Nords are frost resistant and the Imperials can use the voice of the emperor to weasel out of a fight. Dark Elves are immune to fire.” She rattled off the racial powers she was aware of, tossing in a bit of snark to distract her from the effect he was having on her.

“Indeed. But you do not have any of these racial powers or blessings. This does not mean though that you are without blessings of your own.”

“Really?” She asked skeptically, crossing her arms and frowning. If she had powers she would know, right?

“Yes rabbit, really. On Earth you had many virulent diseases and illnesses. As a child you were made immune to many of them, correct?”

“Yes, we had to have a lot of different immunizations just to be allowed in school. As a foster child I had them all, the state made sure of that.”

“Because of this you have an unusually strong life force making you more immune to nearly all diseases in Nirn.” He seemed to be waiting for something.

“Um, yay?” She said. His fists curled and she could feel the change in temperament as he moved from smugly pleased to affronted disdain. 

“I mean, thank you!” She exclaimed, eager not to offend and annoy the all powerful god-like prince of daedra who had up till now been very kind to her, all things considered. “Thanks for telling me. Know thyself, that’s a bit of wisdom from back home so… uh, that’s a bit of good information to have.” She smiled up at the Daedric Prince. He reached up a hand brushing her cheek, and warmth spread from where he touched her face all the way to her core and she gasped a small strangled sound.

“You also have a resistance to magic. You were taken from a world without it and so most magics will lack the impact they can have on other, lesser beings native to Nirn.”

“Well,” she managed to choke out, struggling to hold onto her dignity and resist throwing herself on top of the Daedric Prince of the Hunt and begging him to fuck her. What the hell was happening to her! “That can be useful.”

“Indeed.” He purred into her ear. Will felt like she was on fire with need and was just about to reach for him, dignity and decorum be damned when she woke up.

The sun was shining through the slats in the roof. Whiterun, she was back in Whiterun. She stretched lethargically, letting the sleepiness seep from her bones trying to ignore the thrum of her heart and the throbbing in her loins. 

That was just weird! How could she get so worked up over Hircine? She had not even seen his face and while she was attracted to a well formed male body it took more than that to get her juices flowing. At least it always had before. It had to be a Daedric prince thing, he was just using his powers to put the whammy on her and throw her off her game. Not that she had game. And why would he do that? The Daedra and Aedra had already admitted they were in competition for her allegiance. Her soul? Yes she had chosen him to train her but that did not necessarily make her loyal to him. 

Perhaps he was trying to use that strange power of his to get her fired up over him. She frowned, upset. That was a blatant abuse of his power. If she saw him again she was going to tell him in no uncertain terms to lay off that manipulative bullshit. As she rose from the bed she briefly wondered if she did indeed want to see him again? She found that she enjoyed the hunting grounds. She loved Kinnara and felt great affection for Toryli, but the Prince himself, she didn’t feel comfortable thinking about him at all. He was Male dominance, he was the allure of the wild and untamed and part of her wanted to be a part of that. But he had demonstrated that he had no compunction in using his power to control and manipulate her and Will was her own person. She did not need or want anyone to control her, bend her to their will, make her their subservient. Wet dreams of Daedric princes are probably not healthy to indulge in. Will gently shook Lucia awake and put on the blue dress she had bought. 

It was a new day in Skyrim and she was going on the hunt. She needed funds, supplies, better equipment and it would be the land itself she would meet her needs from. Her training in one world had ended. It was time to put that training to work in another, and improve and enhance the skills she had been given, the abilities she had earned.


	6. Chapter 6: World encounters on the path from Whiterun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will started out with a simple plan but then world encounters happened and the plan got a bit more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried out a new ENB and Parrallax 4k textures the enb was awful the setting was great but my character had a film grain effect on her I had to go back to realvision then the 4k caused significant stutter and lag so I cut the down to 2k the game is gorgeous but if a fight happens a lot of stuttering and lag, may have to just not use the parallax which makes me mad cause my rig is a beast! Also Rorikstead kept crashing I had to delete all the way back to Will's first save so glad I took notes. The current version of Will in game is not the same version we started with but now she can go in and out of Rorikstead... for now. It took all day cleaning mods, compressing textures install and uninstalling ENB's. So this chapter is a day later than I wanted.

Chapter 6

Will knew she would need to hone her skills in the real world. Much of her training in the Hunting Grounds was apparent already. She had muscle tone now, where before her body had been thick with the cellulite of sedentary living in a first world country. One with easy access to sugars and trans-fats. She was now lean with muscle memory but as she swung her rapier giving it a few test swings and thrusts, she realized reality had a bit more presence than dreaming in Oblivion. Still, she felt confident she could face the land and survive. She had no funds and no armor but she knew there were some quests she could do for the citizens of Whiterun. She determined that after breakfast she would speak with Amren about his sword, scope out the bandit camp just outside the backside of Whiterun and visit the Hall of the dead to see if that priest needed assistance as he did in the video game.

She broke her fast on a hunk of warm, crusty bread slathered in butter and honey and a slice of hearty cheese and a glass of milk. She gave Hulda the last of her septims asking that she spare some food for Lucia around midday. Hulda agreed. Will believed she may have found a friend in the innkeeper if her warm smile and slightly larger food portions compared to Mikael and Saadia’s were any indication, the former giving her the stink-eye as he sat at the table across the room. She ignored him sharing her meal with a slightly sleepy Lucia.

“I am going to try and return this evening. If I have earned enough coin you are welcome to join me again. I’ve given Hulda some Septims so she’ll feed you lunch this afternoon.” The little girls blue eyes widened in surprise.

“Can you be my momma?” Will paused, her cheese partway to her lips. While her heart ached at Lucia’s plight she knew she was in no condition to be anyone’s mother.

“Sweetie,” she began, her voice warm with affection, “I would love to be able to take care of you the way you deserve. But just like you, I haven’t got a septim to my name. I can’t be your momma. What I can be is a friend. I promise if my situation changes I will gladly care for you, I simply can’t make that promise at this time.” Lucia’s face was blazing red in embarrassment and she was struggling to contain her tears. Will felt a twinge of sympathy, recalling a few times when she herself had asked very similar questions to different adults and recieved different answers that in the end always amounted to your not good enough and we don’t want you. She refused to mislead the little girl and give her false hope, but she could give her the real hope that things might get better. She had promised to do what she could and unfortunately that was all she could do at this time.

“It’s alright.” Lucia whispered softly. “I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for me. Is it alright if… if sometimes I pretend you’re my momma?” Will’s heart twisted and she found herself trying to hold back her own tears.

“I think that’s alright.” She said quietly. “When I was little girl like you I didn’t have a family either. I used to pretend my mom and dad were away on a journey and they would be coming back for me when they got settled.”

“Did your parents die too? Like mine did?” Lucia wondered aloud, as she bit into her bread. “My aunt and uncle threw me out and said I was good for nothing. That’s when I came here.” Will’s eyes narrowed. God help them if she ever found out who Lucia’s aunt and uncle were.

“No,” she answered. “My parents didn’t die. I heard from the people raising me until I was about seven that my mom just didn’t want me anymore and nobody knew who my dad was. I actually found my mom when I was a teenager- a young woman a few years older than you- but by then she had a new family and she still didn’t want me. She made it pretty clear real fast.”

“Well I think your the nicest person I ever met. Your mom is stupid!” Will grinned at Lucia’s temper and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” It had taken Will years to come to terms with her birth mother’s actions, it was still a bitter pang that hurt in the pit of her stomach when she thought about the woman who had birthed her and then abandoned her, but she was strong, she’d always been strong, had to be when you came from nothing and were treated like it your whole life.

As Will left the tavern she circled the market, unhappy to discover that Amren and his wife were not around, conveniently arguing about his missing sword. Heaving a sigh she made her way to the Whiterun gates armed with her bow, sixteen arrows, her rapier and the steel dagger she had stolen her first day in Skyrim. As she walked down the cobblestoned path admiring the clarity of the brilliant morning sky she was thankful for her sturdy boots. At least she had not been transported to Tamriel in her flip flops. After leaving the city proper she headed down the path making a sharp right up the wooden walkways patrolled by the guards who eyed her curiously. She hopped the wall and ascended the hill behind the city, crouching low and using the tall grasses and boulders to hide her. She eventually crept up over the bandit camp, deciding to observe them for a time. She could see the horse and cart. One bandit came shuffling out every half hour or so to get firewood but other than that there was no movement from the encampment. Will was tense and frustrated the longer she sat there. She knew there was more than one bandit but she didn’t know how many and how they were armed. Suddenly there was movement in the distance, a merchant and two bodyguards were crossing the tundra. This was the perfect chance to get a better look at the camp! By joining their party their numbers could ensure a fighting chance should the bandits choose to engage them in battle. Will crept down the embankment and sprinted across the field to join them. The body guards eyed her warily but she just smiled and trotted along behind them.

“Don’t mind me fellas just looking to get by without getting killed, safety in numbers and all that.” The two men grunted but otherwise ignored her following their patron. Will scanned the bandit camp as they passed just out of range of oncoming arrows. There were three bandits, an orc was sitting and eating at a table, it looked like a dark elf mage if the glow on her hands was anything to go by, and an archer. 

The four of them trotted across the field to the road. The three men headed toward Riverwood while Will turned back to head up the road to Whiterun. She could handle three bandits as long as she held the high ground and had the element of surprise. She sneaked back to her perch creeping closer to the edge of the overhang and waited. Sure enough the archer was collecting more firewood. With his back to Will, she nocked an arrow and inhaled, releasing it on the exhale. Her shot was true hitting the man in the throat. Will convinced herself it was just like any other hunt, the fact that the prey were humans meant nothing to her. Part of her was mentally screaming but she clamped down on that part of herself with ruthless determination. If she needed to, she could be sick after. There were loud exclamations from below, the two other bandits hurrying out to their fallen friend. The mage saw her before she could aim the second arrow and her shot went wild as she dodged out of the way of an icy blast of frost magic. Dancing backwards put her out of range of the ice but it also made it difficult to take aim, meanwhile the orc was coming around to where she was with a mace and shield that would make fighting difficult. She nocked another arrow and sprinted down the hillside, eluding the orc and forcing the mage to come to her. She found herself taking aim and firing right as she was hit by a blast of cold magic that felt like diving bare-skinned into hard-packed snow. The mage was right on her and Will was forced to drop her bow and pull her blades. She swung the rapier, sluggishly slicing into the dark elf’s casting arm.

“I’ll bury you!” She cried.

“Eat shit!” Will screamed, her body moving slower than it should be due to the icy blast. She swung her sword toward the mage again but threw her other arm with the dagger up almost immediately afterward stabbing the elf in the throat. A spray of crimson painted across her vision as the body of the elf fell. She had no time to dwell on that, as the heavy thud of large feet pelted across the gravel and a heaving grunt informed her of the arrival of the orc! She could feel the breeze from the mace beside her head as she dodged aside just in time. The heavy swing forced the orc to compensate as it took half of him down with his weapon and that was all the time Will needed to dash out of there, sheathing her rapier and scooping up her bow as she ran. She scrambled back up to the lip of the cliff, more agile than her pursuer and he was forced to take the long way around. This gave her time to breathe and prepare another arrow. She fired as he crested the hill opposite her position and the arrow sank into his arm. He let out a wild roar and kept charging even as she drew and fired again. This time the arrow went right into his eye socket and he fell to the ground without even a grunt, mere feet from where she stood. Will’s eyes were wild as they darted all around. Were they dead? Had she killed them all. There was no movement and no sound in the vicinity.

Hesitantly, she crept closer to the orc, nudging him with her toe. When he neither moved nor made a sound she shoved him over. Yep, he was dead. She began stripping him of everything; she took his armor, his weapons, everything in his pockets including a satchel of septims he had tied to his inner thigh below his smalls. She tossed everything over the lip of the cave, then scampered back down the same face she had climbed up moments earlier. She checked the other two bodies, looting them similarly. Damaged armor might not get much, but this was a preindustrial civilization and Will was certain the textiles from the armor, weapons and clothing could be broken down and repurposed. She loaded all the armor in a large chest which she put on the cart. She also loaded up the weapons. She then ransacked the camp. Kinnara’s words echoing in her mind. _Forage upon your enemy. Use your fallen foes to augment your own strength._ She liked to think that her mentor would be proud of her. As she hitched the horse to the wagon she realized she had just not only survived her first epic battle in Skyrim, but she had managed to come out of it a woman of means.

She leapt into the air, thrusting her fist skyward, shaking her butt, and doing an intense cabbage patch as she came back to the ground.

“Fuck yeah!” She cried, laughing loudly a huge grin on her face. “Aw yeah, I’m awesome, uh huh, Who da’ man? I’m da’ man! Alright now! Break it down!” She began spanking an invisible ass and gyrating wildly in sheer joyful abandon. She didn’t give the dead bandits a second thought. She was a hunter and they were prey. The land had indeed met her needs.

She ended up selling everything to Ri’Saad, a traveling Khajit merchant. Sadly her backpack was destroyed, the material, stained with blood was beyond redemption. Ri’Saad sold her a Skyrim knapsack and spent some time showing her how to pack and unpack it so she could fit a bedroll, a tent, water skins, potions, a fire starting kit, and some food so that it would not be destroyed. He then recommended that she get the side compartment enchanted to hold any loot or kills she might find.

“Tis a common enough enchantment,” he responded defensively when she inquired further, her face a mask of dubious disbelief. “It’s how most lone hunters and merchants carry their goods around. The bag is enchanted to hold up to so many pounds- the base weight is three hundred but for an additional cost you can get higher tier enchantments to hold higher weights. Any court magician could do it for you.” He continued slightly abashed as she still stared at him in comical disbelief. “I generally only sell bags already enchanted but we got these at a discount.” He spoke so matter of fact about something that was so alien to her that Will could only laugh, staring gob-smacked at the khajit in front of her. She walked away from the trade with well over eighteen hundred septims. Now, obviously, one did not carry around eighteen hundred individual Septims. She had thirty-six coins, each worth fifty septims each. She left the khajit caravan much richer and happier than she had been since arriving in this strange world. She was unable to get anything from the stables for the horse and cart because they were not hers to begin with but Skulvar was perfectly willing to take it off her hands and since she could not care for the beast and knew next to nothing about finding the original owner of the cart willingly divested herself of the added responsibility. 

Will decided to circle through the town seeking Amren once more to see about getting the quest for his sword. She found him in the market and surprisingly his daughter Braith was at his side..

“Greetings Amren.” Will called out with a wave and a smile.

“Hello again traveller. Will, was it?” 

“It was indeed. I heard you were interested in getting help about a sword?” Amren narrowed his eyes, his gaze changed from mild curiosity and polite disinterest to calculating, as if measuring her worth. Will may or may not have flexed a bit, grinning cheekily.

“And where did you here that?” He questioned sharply.

“I think half the town heard you and your wife over by the Gildergreen.” He sighed heavily reaching up and scratching at his head in aggravation, relaxing his stance.

“My wife simply doesn’t understand! My father managed to feed his family making a living with that sword for years! I can’t just let it rot in some hole with some skeever driven bandits!” He spat. Will studied the man before her recognizing loss and pain in his face even as his words rung a different truth.

“It’s all you have left of him. Your da, I mean. Isn’t it?” His eyes widened, turning glassy.

“By the eight! How can you, a stranger understand when my Saffir, my own wife, does not!” Will felt her heart swell in her chest. She knew what it was to feel like an orphan. It was a pain you did not escape even as an adult. People think when you are grown it’s not so bad as if you were orphaned as a child. The truth was losing a parent or parents was a deep abiding sorrow no matter the age. Everyone dealt with such grief in their own manner. For Will, she had poured her lonely fear and despair into her work after her mother’s second and final rejection; and when that didn’t work escaping into imaginary worlds that- as she now realized were not so imaginary. Amren clinging to a symbol of his father's life, to keep the connection to his father after death had taken him was a perfectly normal response to grieving the loss of a loved one.

“How did you lose something so precious?” She asked softly, her low voice thick with compassion. Amren sighed heavily, walking from the market up toward the Gildergreen, Braith clinging to her father's hand conspicuously quiet.

“We were traveling back to Whiterun from a trip to Falkreath. My Saffir grows flowers to make some of the soaps they sell in the local shops in these parts. She wanted some seeds from a special berry bush that only grows native in the reach. On the way back the wagon broke down just outside of Rorikstead. We were forced to walk the rest of the way to town, carrying only what fit on our backs.I left my father’s sword in the wagon intending to go back for it after my family was safe. By the time I made it back the wagon had already been looted. I managed to track the raiders to a bandit camp just outside of Rorikstead. But there were too many of them for me to take out on my own. I’d need to hire the Companions or some other band of mercenaries to take them out!”

“I think I might try to get your sword back Amren.” He barked out a short laugh.

“No offense but this was a large bandit camp hiding behind high walls. Just how will you manage to survive, much less get my sword?”

“Well, first, I won’t go alone. I’ve recently come into some coin so I will hire someone to accompany me. I am no stranger to the hunt and I will bait a trap and lure the prey to me.” Her eyes gleamed with pleasure as she was already thinking out her stratagem. Hiring Jenassa was five hundred Septims, a hefty fee but once paid would earn her company indefinitely and Will liked the idea of having someone watch her back in the wilds. Even in the Hunting Grounds of Hircine, Kinnara had always been with her. She had been taught there was safety in always having a companion or two.

“Very well. If you find it maybe I can teach you a thing or two about how to wield a sword like that.” Will extended a hand and Amren took it, shaking it slowly.

“Can you tell me if it has any distinguishing features that would differentiate the sword from other blades of similar make.”

“It’s a curved sword, the kind the Redguard have, but it was inscribed with Nord runes.”

“And this camp can you show me on a map whereabouts it is?”

“Aye. Do you have a map?”

“No, but if you can show me on one I know the land pretty good as long as I have my bearings.” Amren eyed her skeptically.

“Here, come with me, I have a map you can keep if it gets me back my father’s sword.” 

Amren led her to his house. She waited outside while he went to get the map. He brought it back and showed her where Rorikstead was. He then made a small triangle where the bandit camp was. “There. That’s where I tracked the bandits who took my father’s sword.”

Will said her goodbye’s and trotted briskly through the town seeking Jenassa and was dismayed to see that the mercenary was not where she always seemed to be in the game. She sighed in frustration. She supposed Amren’s sword would have to wait.

Since the sun was still low in the sky; it was not even mid day, Will decided to go hunting. She wanted to try out her stealth and bow skills and see if she could still field dress a kill she made with her own hands out here in the real world. The plains around Whiterun were indeed teeming with life and a small herd of wild elk caught her eye as she began creeping from the main highway and following them into the bush. She made sure to stay downwind, trying to be aware of her steps as she moved. Twice she spooked them into a run and was forced to sprint after them at an angle to avoid making them aware of her pursuit. With patience and skill she would not have possessed yesterday she managed to shoot a buck through the throat, with a bleat he went down. 

Ecstatic, Will hurried to the fallen animal's side and began dressing it as she had been taught, coring the anus and slicing it from butt hole to sternum. The creature had a distinct odor of fur and animal and her nose wrinkled as she bent to her task. She used two fingers to angle the blade properly and keep from accidentally nicking the internal organs and with precise cuts managed to remove the diaphragm from the spine. Blood welled and pooled at her feet, staining her fingers, the coppery scent mingling with the scents of autumn grasses, wind and wild, animal and green. She then proceeded to slice upwards from the sternum to the neck so as to slice the Elk’s windpipe. After that it was a simple matter to pull all the organs out in one go after disconnecting the windpipe from the spine. The entire process took around twenty minutes but she was pleased as she hefted the carcass over to drain the blood. 

It was then that she realized she had a problem. The carcass weighed almost as much as she did, even without the organs. How was she supposed to get it back to Whiterun? She supposed she could dig a hole and cache the meat, returning for it later with a more thought out method of transport but it could turn before then wasting the kill. She grimaced, she would feel such shame if her first hunt ended in a waste of life. She would need to quarter the meat as best she could and build a travois to transport it. She used her dagger to cut two branches that were easily located in the brush of the plains. She ended up using her bathing suit top to tie the poles together and her red dress she had yet to launder to hold the bloody meat once it had been cut. She had to cut a couple of holes in the bottom to tie it off to the poles, and she used the sleeves to tie it to the other end. She was miffed at losing her only other dress but at the same time she was slightly impressed at her own ingenuity. Necessity really was the mother of invention!

As she pulled the travois behind her she was pleased to see that it held up and she began the walk back to Whiterun. 

As she made her way back to the main road she was surprised to see a little boy with a wooden sword fighting the air. They were both quite a distance from both Whiterun and the outlying settlements. Will looked around for the boys parents but there was no one else around.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” She asked as she approached him, slightly concerned.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” The boy asked, glaring up at her. “I’m training. My sister is a shield maiden in the army. If she can use a sword and fight then I can too!” He began feinting and lunging.

“Okay, but, it’s not safe to be out here on the road all alone. Where are your parents?” She asked.

“Aww, don’t tell them, my mom will get so mad.” Will frowned giving the boy her best teacher look, one she had perfected over the past four years.

“Where is your mother young man.” The boy frowned sullenly and pointed. Away from Whiterun.

“She’s back there with my dad and my little sister in Rorikstead.” Will groaned internally. There was no way she was leaving this kid out on the road. Visions of bandits capturing him and cooking him- was cannibalism a thing in Skyrim? Wolves and giant spiders attacking and consuming him. There was no way she could just leave him out here. The image of that psycho in the woods with the dead body splayed out on the alter chasing after her flashed through her mind and the thought of such a person capturing this stupid kid made her shudder.

“I am very disappointed in your choices. Do you know how dangerous the roads of Skyrim are?” The boy shrugged. Will huffed in aggravation, dropping the poles and bending down in front of him. “Listen to me. Now.” She used that tone and his eyes shot to her face. “Just this morning I had to kill three bandits and that was close to the city. Look around where you are.” The boys eyes widened as he glanced around uneasily. She nodded as he swung his gaze back to hers, the first inkling of fear crossing his features. “I’m taking you home, but first we are going to go back to Whiterun and see if I can sell this elk I hunted today. And guess who gets to help me carry it.” The little boy looked at the travois and sighed heavily.

“Alright. Thank you for taking me home. I was having so much fun I didn’t realize I was so far from the village.” They walked for about a half an hour, the boy peppering her with questions about the bandits she had fought. She answered in a subdued voice, drinking some water before handing him the skin- which he drained. She split her cheese in half and he devoured his half, eying her expectantly for more. She scowled at him and shrugged and they continued thri walk back to the city. It was luck that had them cross paths with a wandering merchant who bought the meat from her. She abandoned the travois on the side of the road eyeing her dress, now soiled beyond repair with regret and untying her swimsuit top which was not so badly stained, and her and Bjorn, as she learned his name was, turned and headed back towards Rorikstead.

As they walked past the western Watchtower one of the guards called out.

“Beware the old fort miss, perhaps you and the boy should head back to the city. The fort’s been overrun by bandits and the Jarl has yet to send men to retake it.”

“Thank you for the warning but I need to get the kid here to Rorikstead before nightfall.” The guard shrugged at her response.

“Suit yourself.” He stated, continuing with his patrol. 

As they came to the fork in the path Will gazed at the fort in speculation. Bjorn however was eying it with unconcealed dread.

“What are you so worried about?” Will asked. “You came by here earlier today and you are fine.”

“I didn’t know it was crawling with bandits then, now did I?” He snapped back.

They hugged the shoulder of the road. Will was not too concerned until an arrow went whizzing by her face. She heard it hissing through the air and managed to avoid it just in time, grasping Bjorn by the hand they raced around some boulders on the side of the road.

“Aaaa!” Bjorn screamed in terror, “I need to run away!”

“Foolish boy!” Will snapped pushing him to the ground behind the rocks. “If you run away they can shoot you as you flee. You keep your ass right here do you understand me!” She snapped. Bjorn was crouched to the ground crying and trembling. Will wanted to offer comfort but she needed to eliminate the threat. She gave him a hard shake. “Answer me!”

“Y-yes! I understand!” 

Will was incensed. Those mother fuckers shot at a woman and child on the road alone. They were cowards! Petty evil things that deserved to be taken from this world! They were prey animals. Will could here chuckling from across the road. They were laughing at what they had done. Flooded with self righteous indignation Will soundlessly raced across the road to a lookout perch that had been hastily constructed outside of the fort. Those vermin thought she was gone, cowering and weak, hiding from this scum as they played at war. 

She drew back an arrow taking careful aim at one of the two men she could see from her position. Even as the first arrow released she had a second shot aimed and fired. Both arrows found their marks in the two men atop the tower walls and with a pair of gurgling cries they fell to what she hoped was their death! Will had her teeth bared in a snarl as she took aim at the entrance to the fort silently seething, daring the scum hidden behind their walls to face her. Like all cowards they kept back in their hole. 

After a few minutes when Will was assured there would be no further attacks she returned to Bjorn, finding him still crouched and weeping where she had left him. She put away her bow and crouched down beside him, drawing him into her chest. With an anguished wail he threw his arms around her and sobbed. She rocked him as he wept, humming softly, a tuneless soothing comfort meant to assure him of his safety.

It was a while before Bjorn recovered enough to return to their travels. He was now much quieter and more subdued, as was Will, she was more alert now. Before she had gotten slightly arrogant, thinking herself a match for the land and it’s denizens. It was easy in her confidence to forget that in this place, there was always something or someone out there looking to take her life. She sincerely hoped she would not forget again. As they traveled Will kept thinking she saw a flash of white out of the corner of her eye, only to turn and nothing was there. 

Bjorn hid behind her as she took out a pack of wolves with bow and arrow and sword and dagger. She was getting good at switching between weapon sets. The road was pretty empty for a long stretch and for a while only the sound of gravel crunching beneath their boots could be heard, accompanied by the wind whistling through the trees and grasses. Gjukar’s monument loomed large in the distance gradually increasing in size the closer they got. Stone markers signaling side paths leading to mysterious caves and game trails offered variety to eyes grown weary of massive trees stretching brown barked branches and deep green needled limbs high above the earth to adorn the shale and coral hues of cobblestone paths with a sprinkling of twinkling shadows in the midday sun. 

Will’s eye was caught by something that did not quite belong on the landscape ahead. In the middle of the path something very similar in color, blending with earth and stone shimmied and wriggled She took out her blades as they crept closer, unable to identify the object until Bjorn and herself were nearly upon it. It was a woman! Bound and masked and dressed in a rucksack, left in the middle of the road whimpering softly. Will sheathed her blade strifing forward with more urgency, huushing the bound woman softly as she removed the hood covering her face.

The woman blinked up into the sun, her lips were dry and chapped. Will pulled out her second water skin and held it to the woman's still whimpering lips.

“Easy. You’re among friends. You’re safe now. My name is Will, this is my young friend Bjorn. How did you come to be in this predicament?” As the woman eased off the water Will handed the skin off to the boy and cut through the woman's binds on her wrists and ankles.

“They took me and they _hurt_ me!” They left me here when they were done!” She was whimpering but far too dehydrated for tears. Will pulled a healing potion from her bag, unstopping the bottle and holding it to the woman's mouth.

“Do you know who they were?” She asked even as the woman greedily consumed the ruby potion. She shook her head at Will’s question.

“I was farming the fields outside of Rorikstead when they came, a small raiding party of bandits! They took me from the field and rode off with me.” She was sobbing, heaving, dry, gulping, gasping, pained exhalations of relief and fear and the after affects of her trauma. “My parents will be looking for me! I have to get home! I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone.” 

“It’s going to be alright. I will help you, we will help you, right Bjorn?” The boy was staring ashen faced at the woman in front of them but at the sound of his name he jerked his gaze to Will and nodded shakily.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll help protect you.” He was so earnest. The young woman looked at him and a burst of laughter with a slightly hysterical edge to it erupted from her mouth. She whimpered, covering her lips before she did it again and merely nodded at the two of them. 

Will led the trio forward, Bjorn had his sword out standing beside the young woman as they finished the rest of the trek to Rorikstead. They were forced to leave the road and cut a wide berth around the fortified bandit camp that held Amren’s sword. The woman they had rescued would not look in the direction of the camp and Will suspected that was where she had been held. There was a skirmish between some travelling pilgrims and some of the bandits, but Will did not feel it prudent to lend her aid when she had two such vulnerable charges.

It was with great relief that Will and the two entered the village of Rorikstead. The young woman thanked her and ran off, Will assumed to her home. She was just about to ask Bjorn where his parents lived when a woman's relieved shout echoed across the potato fields.

“Bjorn! Thank the Gods you are alright!” A woman came tearing toward them, snatching the boy up into her arms and squeezing him tightly. “Just where have you been! Your father’s out looking for you as we speak! Why did you leave the village!”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I was practicing how to use my sword and I lost track of time and I didn’t mean to go so far but I was having so much fun and then I was almost to Whiterun and I’m sorry Ma, I’m so sorry!”

“Whiterun!” She gasped. She turned her stricken gaze to Will. Will nodded.

“I found him on the road while I was hunting and thought it would be best if I returned him home to his family. The roads are dangerous in Skyrim.”

“Oh divines! Bless you! You are a good person and the divines will surely smile on you. I don’t have much coin but please, take this for your troubles.” Will shook her head declining the bag of coins.

“You look like you need that, I can’t just take your money.”

“Bless you, then at least join us for dinner, we’re staying at the Frostfruit Inn.”

“Of course.” Will smiled gesturing for the woman to lead the way.

It turned out Frijaa and Olan were traveling from Cyrodil with their children to stay at Winterhold. Frijaa was an enchanter and a seamstress and Olan was a blacksmith. They were working on creating armored clothing that would be more flexible than armor and fit like clothing with protection equal to common armors. Bjorn told his mother about Will’s bloody dress and Frijaa begged Will to allow her and her husband to craft her a set. They could repurpose her blue dress and if she got them some iron or steel they would forge a lovely set of magical armor that would fit like a glove. Frijaa also gave her one of her old dresses to wear while they made the armor and offered to enchant her knapsack free of charge. 

Will delightedly accepted. It would mean spending three days in Rorikstead or returning in three days but she happily decided true armor would be worth it! She knew she could not take out the bandit fort without help and proper armor would be needed for that job; but she was determined to take it down, not just for Amren’s sword, but also because Skyrim and the people that lived here were not safe with such lawless animals so close to the village.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a mod that adds world encounters and Will would never leave a boy on his own in the wilds even on the path without adult supervision so I had to get Bjorn back home. I hate Rorikstead as it frequently regularly and without explanation crashes when I get too close. But I had to do it. He was so annoying though when he would not budge past the fort until I killed those guys on the wall even though they were not attacking us. The girl in the middle of the road was also there but she just got up said thanks and ran off, no trauma. I gave Bjorns parents a backstory so I could put Will in some modded armor that looks like clothes. I'll try to post a link to her in the next chapter. I actually have at least one more chapter in the notes before I have to play again. Vilkas will come in as well, complete original work rather than in game stuff because he already just told her she didn't have what it takes. My bag enchantment was to explain the fact that in game you can carry 300 lbs of objects I can maybe carry 40 pounds on my back but no way I can do that and fight and there won't always be a horse or cart to lug loot around in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will levels up, gets her new armor, makes a friend saves a life, you know the usual. Just another day in the life of the dragonborn.

Will ate and slept at the Frostfruit inn, the next three nights prepaid for her by Bjorn’s parents. As she ate she witnessed her first barroom brawl, two drunkards began taking turns throwing punches at each other. The rest of the tavern laughed and jeered, egging them on. The barkeep rolled his eyes, wiping the counter, but did nothing to stop them. She eyed the fight avidly, grinning hugely as the two who had begun the fight with such strong swings and bellowing insults, slowed gradually until they were supporting each other, and together made it to one of the tables where they continued to drink. Money exchanged hands amid good natured grumblings. The bed was scratchy and uncomfortable, leaving her longing for her mattress from home; one that didn’t poke her and stab her with sharp needles of hay every time her body shifted in the night. 

Her bag was enchanted by the next morning so she decided to take the road back to Whiterun to check on Lucia and hire Jenassa- if she was available, to help take out the bandit camp. The trek back to Whiterun was about four hours of power walking, the distance slightly farther than that between Riverwood and Whiterun but with fewer up and down hills. Travel time was made longer as she looted any bodies she found along the way, as well as took advantage of the hunting between the two cities. Three dead were found on the road near the bandit camp, two looked to be travelers and one, Will surmised, could be a bodyguard or one of the bandits. Will took their armor, leaving them in their smalls and laid them out on the side of the road respectfully. If they were not bandits they deserved this final respect at least. The road was relatively clear of any obstacles, dangers, and unexpected encounters this time. She bagged two hares and another elk. She was getting more proficient in field dressing and quartering the meat which she wrapped in special skins she had bought from Cedric’s Trading post for just this reason.

Back in Whiterun, the first thing Will did was head up to the Bannered Mare and pay Hulda a fifty septim coin to feed Lucia for the week. She asked her to let the girl sleep by the fire in the kitchens if she could. Hulda nodded, emphasizing that the coin would pay for a single week of care. Will tried not to curl her nose in disgust at the mercenary attitude. It would not do to offend the innkeeper, particularly since she needed her help in caring for the orphan. She just felt so angry that it took money to get anyone to give a damn about an obviously homeless child. She snorted on that thought as she exited the inn. Why should she be surprised though? It was the same in her world. The only time adults ever cared about her were when her actions threatened the money she brought in from the state. 

Will sold the venison and rabbit to Anoriath in the market then headed to Belathor’s general store to see about getting some more clothes. She purchased two new dresses, a blue and a tan one in the more conventional style of Skyrim and finally broke down and bought a breast band and some small clothes. Belathor bought most of the clothes, weapons and armor from her that she had looted on the road. She did notice that he paid slightly less than Warmaidens for the weapons and armor, but she liked being able to pick up so many other essentials at the same time as cashing out her looted gear, determining the convenience worth the slight decline in profit.

Jenassa was still not in the market square so Will made her way to the Drunken Huntsman. She needed more arrows anyway. Will entered the shop and the first thing she noticed was how smoky the air was, the scent of tobacco and different herbs she was unable to identify filled the air. It was not unpleasant, merely strong, and she found herself inhaling curiously. There were more people in the shop than she expected. A pair of wood elves were sitting at a table in the back, a dark elf was unloading stock and hauling crates down from the loft. Jenassa stood off in the corner and Will’s face lit up when she saw her. The dark elf smirked at her, eying her up appreciatively.

“Welcome, take a good look around. If you don’t see what you need feel free to ask, I may have it in the back.” Will turned to the counter to greet the shopkeeper, he was an elf, Bosmir or high elf, Will could not be sure. She didn’t ask because she didn’t want to sound racist but she was curious.

“Thanks, I’m looking to buy some arrows, I prefer higher quality ones than iron if you have them.”

“Ah, a hunter, I could tell when you walked in, you were no stranger to the wilds. I’m sure we can meet your hunting needs.” Will raised a brow at his obviously insouciant flattery but let it pass as he pulled out four different kinds of arrows, patiently explaining to her what they were made of, where they were from, the cost versus benefits of each one and she ended up buying fifty rogue arrows, trading her hunting bow in for a Rogue bow, straight from Dragon Hall. Elrinder made it clear she had made the right choice as the bow was perfect for hunting as well as defending oneself from the dangers inherent in the wilds of Skyrim. He tried selling her some poisons but she demurred, paying for her purchases before approaching the mercenary. Jenassa was seated at a small table by the window in a narrow alcove at the back of the store. She watched Will’s approach, cloaked in the shadows, no doubt intentionally, with a predatory smile; her delicate features framed by an intricate lavender tattoo that put to mind a serpent's scales made Will shiver in slight trepidation. Her long dark hair was swept up and out of the way into a high ponytail, emphasizing the mer’s elven cheekbones. The gleaming wet red of the Dunmer’s eyes pierced the shroud of darkness.

“Blade and shadow, silence and death. These are my arts. For a modest fee, I’ll make great art for you.” Will’s knees went weak and she felt a thrill shoot through her listening to Jenassa's low voiced sales pitch.

“That’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” Will asked, grinning down at the mercenary. Jenassa’s eyes seemed to twinkle up at her but she didn’t quite smile.

“It’s worked for me in the past, has a nice flare don’t you agree?” She asked in that same low drawl. 

“Hell yeah!” Will agreed, “you could melt butter with that voice, no matter what words you use but those do have a lovely, dangerous, appeal.” This time Jenassa did smile, all teeth and predatory intent.

“So how can I help you? Do you wish to hire the services of one who can kill without compassion, lending my blade to yours? I know nothing of fear, and nothing of remorse. I am an artisan, painting in strokes of blood red upon the canvas of life.”

“Tone it down there squirrely Dan, I’ve already decided to hire you but I do want to clarify a few things first.”

“As you will, though my name is Jenassa.” Will paused a moment in melancholy, no one in the entire world would ever get her reference to Letterkenny, one of her favorite television shows. It was a context completely lost to this world. She shrugged it off but a bit of the sadness stayed like a thorn pulled from her hand, the wound gone but the pain remaining.

“And I’m Will, a pleasure to meet you.” Will extended her hand to the dark elf woman who arched a brow in surprise but shook her hand firmly, her grip tight, strong, but not threatening.

“Well met, Will.”

“So, Skyrim has a bit of a bandit problem.” Will began.

“Aye, that it does.” Was Jenassa’s neutral reply.

“I aim to solve it and would like your help in doing so.” Jenassa laughed, a low pitched vibrating alto ringing mockingly through the dimly lit smoke-filled shop.

“And so you plan to take out every bandit camp in every province? I may have overestimated your good sense.” Will shook her head, ignoring the mocking jeer twisting Jenassa’s lips into a pouty smile.

“Not every camp, just two in particular. There’s a fort down by the Western Watchtower. The beasts that inhabit it like to take potshots at innocent travelers as they pass by. Myself and a boy were traveling to Rorikstead when they shot at us. I took out two of their kind on the fortress walls. I aim to slaughter them all and look to have someone at my back while I do so. I don’t know the count of villains but I know they are rabid dogs deserving an animal's death. They need to be put down.” Jenassa studied her face intensely.

“My fee hires a bodyguard, not a fool to follow blindly into danger to put myself between a foolish and untried girl and her delusions of hero-play.” Will frowned at the open derision in Jenassa’s voice.

“At five hundred septims, I would think your fee should hire me at the very least a comrade in arms to watch my back, I do not expect you to do all the work while I stand aside and take all the credit. I am willing to split the spoils if that’s what you're worried about, and I have been trained by one of the finest hunters and warriors ever to walk the realms of Nirn. I know I still have much to learn but I’m fast. I’m strong. I am capable.” Jenassa mulled over her words considering them with understandable caution.

“We shall see. You said there was a second target?”

“Yes. Just outside of Rorikstead is a bandit camp. Like the fortress, it has fortified walls and watchtowers, but they send raiders out to the road frequently to pray on the innocent. They recently kidnapped a woman from Rorikstead, took her from the fields in broad daylight. I don’t know what torments they inflicted, but they left her bound and hooded, to die on the road, exposed to the elements, and that may have been her fate had I not had the good fortune to stumble upon her and rescue her in her time of need.”

“So what’s your plan?” Jenassa sighed, puffing on the long handled pipe in her hand.

“We need to take the fortress at night. The way in is easy if we are careful and silent. As for the bandit camp near Rorikstead, I Have a plan for that. Iintend to spend a couple nights at the inn putting it out that I have a lot of money. There is no way that a camp that close to town will not have spies bringing back tales of wealthy travelers. You will stay out of sight, no one will know we are together and most will think me an ignorant, foolish girl. An easy mark to take her wealth from. I will let it be known the day and time I will leave Rorikstead for Whiterun. This will draw them from their fortress and you will strike from the shadows and I will surprise them when I am more than just the weak girl they perceive.”

“And if they only send out a portion of their people, since they think you weak?”

“Then I will return to Rorikstead where I will tearfully describe the ordeal to all and try to leave again a couple nights later. No one will know about you, the bandits will be more cautious but they will still see me as weak and we will kill more of their number when I leave again. Angry, and having nothing for their trouble they will get careless and abandon their fortified camp and then we will end them all. Worst case scenario, their numbers are severely depleted when we take the camp by surprise to wipe them out.” Will’s voice was gloating, thick with vicious satisfaction, satisfied that baiting the trap with the promise of an easy mark and tempting greed was the perfect plan for those feral dogs that would harm the innocent. Gone was the boundless compassion for the dead and dying because in this instance these were not men she was hunting and killing but beasts who would kill others if she did not stop them.

“I think I’m going to like you. Let us make art together.” The women shook hands and Jenassa rose from the table, joining Will as she concluded her business in Whiterun by grabbing some healing potions from the alchemists shop.

Jenassa and Will left Whiterun as the sun began to sink into darkness, discoloring the sky with the mottled purple bruising signifying an end to day and the dawning of dusk. The two found themselves leaving behind the last of the homesteads and their smoking chimneys, and tenderly tended fields and farms as the first pinpoints of starlight pricked back the violet blanket of nightfall. 

Whiterun guards having long since lit the lanterns lining the roadway were conspicuously absent. Will found herself slightly irked that the jarl could not see fit to order his guards to protect the people of Whiterun by clearing out the bandit camps located within his province. Was that not the purpose of nobility? To maintain law and order and protect the people? Outside of the high walls of the city proper it seemed to Will that the jarls did a piss poor job at keeping their citizens safe from danger. 

Jenassa and Will decided to camp just out of sight of Fort Greymoor. The bandits inside would be their most helpless in the middle of the night. The two took shifts resting. Halfway through the night, at Jenassa’s urging, they began sneaking along the wall of the fort. Jenassa assured her that all these forts had a hidden second entrance if one cared to look for them and bandits were- in general, not smart enough to keep them well guarded. It was easy for the dark elf to convince Will it was a better plan than attempting to sneak through the front entrance. 

They found the back door behind the fort where the effluence drained from the building and into the stream bed behind. Will gritted her teeth in disgust as they pulled boards from the walled off entrance as quietly as they could, the malodorous stench of ammonia and excrement assaulting her nose, causing her to gag. Jenassa shushed her with an angry glare and gestured that she take the lead. As quietly as she could, bow at the ready, Will crept into the fort. Jenassa was correct there was no one guarding this entrance and they came to a fork in the path. Jenassa went straight and Will went left climbing a small wooden incline. 

An orc bandit was just walking up a tall spiraling staircase as she came around the corner and he fell to her arrow without so much as a gurgle. Moments later Jenassa was at her side, daggers bloody and a smirk on her lips, her ruby eyes gleaming. They moved methodically checking every doorway, killing all in their path, looting bodies, drawers, shelves until both had maxed out the carry limit on their bag enchantments. After that, it was just a matter of clearing out the rest of the fort. They climbed a ladder leading to a tower hatch, hoping to strike any remaining bandits from above but as they exited the building Will was startled to see that it was morning and a Nord in fur armor stared at her in surprise as she scrambled out.

“Well isn’t this a surprise.” He chortled, drawing the great-axe at his waist and charging her. Will’s sword was in her hand blocking his downward swing, he pushed forward and she allowed the axe to scrape against her blade, his heavy body crushing against hers and as soon as he was close enough she stabbed him in the armpit, ripping the blade of her dagger viciously downward. His eyes widened in disbelief as Will stepped from beneath his weight and he crashed to the ground. Jenassa’s blades were out as she dashed up the steps of a nearby tower, taking out a bandit waiting there. Will drew her bow and crept to the edge of the wall sighting down a bandit in the courtyard near the smithy and shooting, taking out another on the ramparts near the gate, and finally a third charging up the walls right as Jenassa was almost upon them. The dark Elf whirled around to glare in Will’s direction, giving her a rude one fingered gesture that, it seemed, was universal in meaning. Will giggled checking the two bodies on the wall for septims or gems before strolling down the steps to her companion. 

“We make a pretty good team, the two of us.” She said, smiling.

“Indeed. And Skyrim is the safer for it.” As they left the fort Will shouted down the road at a Whiterun guard staring at them.

“Hey, asshole, tell your pussy ass jarl two women cleared out fort Greymoor, a feat his bitch ass guards were too chicken shit to try. His hold and his people are safer because of us.” She flipped him the bird and the two of them headed to Rorikstead, unconcerned about the guards reaction. 

Will was kind of put out to discover that the bandit camp near Rorikstead had already been cleared. She had been looking forward to portraying the dim witted gentlewoman and implementing her plan formed of guile and deception. Her first inkling the camp was cleared came as she idly noted no one was manning the watchtowers of the makeshift camp. As Jenassa and she got closer there was no outcry from behind the barricades even as a noble on horseback trotted past, nearly trampling Will and her follower as he passed.

“Watch it asshole!” She shouted up at him. He tilted his nose up and urged his horse to a sedate canter. 

“”Tis most likely because you travel with a dark elf. Nords do not look upon us with any sort of affection in these lands. Perhaps he assumes you have been tainted by my company.”

“Yeah well, he better watch it or someone’s going to give him a proper ass kicking one of these days.” Will grumbled.

“You perhaps?” Jenassa questioned, voice laden with snark.

“Oh someone’s feeling the sass today.” Will shot back. Her second clue was the string of bodies leading back to the bandit camp like some macabre version of breadcrumbs from the fairy tale Hansel and Gretel.

“Jenassa, follow me.” Will said softly, drawing her sword and dagger. The two women cautiously approached the seemingly deserted camp. A couple more dead bandits sprawled ignobly across the ground. The place was lifeless. Will whistled softly looking all around. “Looks like these guys finally pissed off the wrong mofo’s.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jenassa hissed back in a cautious whisper.

“It means they made the wrong person angry. Would you mind helping me check the camp? I’m looking for a Redguard sword with runic carvings on the blade.” The two searched the camp, checking the assorted chests, grabbing the random septims lying around, inspecting the bodies of the slain and checking their weapons and pockets.

“I think this is it, Will.” Jenassa called from across the camp. Will trotted to her side. Sure enough, there was a sword fitting Amren’s description strapped to the waist of a dead Nordic woman.

“This is going to make Amren very happy.” Will said with a smile.

“Amren?” Questioned Jenassa, arching a delicate brow, a slight frown maring her countenance.

“It belonged to his dad. It’s all he has left to remember him by. These bandits stole it when he was forced to leave it behind on the road in order to get his family to safety. He suspected the blade was here and offered me a reward if I managed to reclaim it and give it back to him.”

“So was it true then?” Jenassa questioned, her voice taking on an unexpected edge, “What you said about this camp preying on travelers and kidnapping innocents?” Will shot her a look.

“Ummm, yeah! I didn’t lie to you to get your help or anything.”

“Neither did you disclose the full truth!” She shot back. Will rolled her eyes.

“Jenassa, it’s not like you joined me to right the wrongs and avenge the innocent- you do _ ‘arts and crafts with blood and shadow _ ’!” Will intoned, deepening her voice dramatically and enclosing her words in air quotes, “besides it’s not like I was keeping it from you it just didn’t come up and I didn’t think about it.”

“So you say.” Jenassa intoned, staring through narrowed eyes at Will.

“Oh come on, every word I spoke is true, you can verify it when we get to Rorikstead if you like- besides I paid for your company, you didn’t do this out of the goodness of your heart.” Will snapped. Jenassa drew back, her entire body becoming closed off.

“You’re right, of course.” She said. Will didn’t understand why Jenassa was being so cranky so with a huff she turned and stomped off.

The remainder of the trip was done in awkward silence. It was a relief to get into town where there were other people around to distract her. Bjorn called out a greeting from one of the fields where he was helping Sissell harvest the crops. Britte was sitting on the porch watching the two with an angry scowl.

“C’mon, there’s a shop up here where we can unload our goods.” Will said. Jenassa followed in silence. They managed to unload all the loot to split nearly one thousand septims between them but even this didn’t seem to break the frosty veil of discomfort lingering between them. “I have a room at the inn for the next two evenings, you’re welcome to join me.” Will offered. Jenassa snorted.

“You bought my services as a warrior, not as your bed warmer.” Will flushed first with a shock of cold that Jenassa could think she would ever mean it like that; then hot with anger.

“You know what, I no longer need your services so why don’t you take your cut and just go. I thought we were friends, or at least getting there, but you’ve been a bitch all afternoon and I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve it. I was not asking or telling you to sleep with me, I was just offering to share the room a couple in town so kindly purchased for me, but you do you. We are done here.” Will stormed off to the inn without a backward glance. 

She had dinner with Bjorn and his parents. They informed her that the new armor would be finished the next day. Will was very excited because even though she had purchased two new dresses from Cedric’s Trading post bringing her total outfit count to five, she had yet to buy any armor and it would be a comfort to have a bit more protection when getting into fights. She perhaps drank a bit more than she should have before excusing herself to bathe and retire for the night. Slightly intoxicated and still upset and disappointed at Jenassa’s actions she blearily stumbled into her room. Her inebriation and inner angst were why she completely missed Jenassa standing in the corner until she moved to speak. Will let out a yelp of surprise. Jenassa threw up her hands to show she was unarmed and did not move closer.

“Jenanassa,” She slurred, “what are you doing here? Thought you were leav-leav- leaving.”

“I wanted to apologize before I go- and explain. If you would let me.” Will sat up from her reclined position and scootched back toward the headboard, patting the bed for Jenassa to sit next to her. Jenassa raised a brow but took the proffered seat.

“Dark elves in Skyrim are not exactly popular with the Nords.” Will waited assuming there would be more to the explanation. Jenassa continued when Will made no move to interrupt. “It is hard to find work for our kind in these lands. Particularly work that pays decently. You may have noticed, I laid it on pretty thick at our first meeting that I would do anything as long as I was hired.” Will snorted.

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Well there’s a reason I did that, I do that. When people hire an elf in Skyrim it is generally the unscrupulous who will undoubtedly have their hired mercenaries doing a lot of dirty work. Unfortunately it’s the only kind of work where we get paid commensurate with our skill. When you came into the Drunken Huntsman, this obvious full blooded Nord woman, and marched right up to me, explaining why you wanted to hire me- Me! A dunmer outlander, to stand by your side and have your back to take down not one but two dens of outlaws- and not for want of reward or jarl’s bounty, but for the good of people, I was moved. It is not often someone will take such bold initiative to do something so brave for so little glory or reward. It is even less rare when they are willing to part with good coin to ensure the job is done right. It felt good to lend my blades to such noble purposes, to feel as if someone saw beyond my curse, saw me as more than a houseless wandering outlander, or dark elf, a slur to be spat in the snow, and saw the potential for honor.”

Will found herself blushing and squirming uncomfortably at Jenassa’s praise. It wasn’t bravery or selflessness that had sent her after the bandits. It was revenge and mercenary inclination and maybe a little bit of defending the little guy.

“When you told me you were there for Amren’s sword and I learned he would pay you coin for it I felt… disillusioned. It felt nice. Being the good guy for once and it felt like you took that from me. It’s not your fault,” She added quickly, “you never lied to me, not really, and we did a good thing, a brave thing, even. It was my fault for projecting my own want for something more, something better for myself, onto you.”

It was all Will could do to refrain from grabbing Jenassa in a tight hug. “You’re right Jenassa.” She said, “We did do something good, something brave. And getting back Amren’s sword is going to have a payout but it is also going to help him. That sword is all he has left of his dad and he loved him. Getting it back is like getting a piece of his dad back. I can forgive you- I do! Forgive you. Can you forgive me for not being a miss goody two-shoes?” Jenassa laughed, her eyes soft and her smile open and relaxed. There was an easy manner in her demeanor that had been lacking all day.

“It is done. If you don’t mind, I would like to stay and fight together longer. If you will have me.”

“Of course.” Will smiled. “And my offer still stands, I am more than happy to share the room and the bed with you if you like- but only to sleep.” Jenassa nodded.

“My thanks.” Jenassa left to bathe and by the time she returned Will was nearly asleep.

The new armor was beautiful and the most comfortable set of Skyrim clothes she had worn. It fit well, thick with quilted patting where it counted, supplementing metal between layers of fabric and bunting. She could see where her dress had been repurposed in some of the more colorful and intricate stitching. Frijaa had even created a hood to protect her from the elements.

“It has the same protective rating as leather armor but looks much more stylish and well fitted and is much easier to move in.”

“I can’t believe this is mine!” Even Jenassa was impressed and asked to see what else the couple had in stock. She bought herself a set of armor as well that looked similar but was all in black. 

“We’re practically swimming in coin now!” Olan jested, “Our son being saved by you was truly a divine inspired blessing in more ways than one.” Will looked at him sharply but upon reflection actually wondered if he could be correct.

Jenassa and Will were in high spirits on the road back to Whiterun. The two women made a striking vision of potential threat and beauty. Jenassa asked Will if she had ever considered using warpaint and Will admitted she had been toying with the idea but was uncertain. She in turn asked Jenassa about the meaning of her facial tattoos. Turns out they had no deep or cultural significance and were just scales, like on a dragon, meant to intimidate, which she pointed out, they did quite well. Will agreed. 

In the distance, a woman was barreling down the road, waving her arms wildly, they could hear her cries for help. Jenassa and Will looked at each other before bursting into a sprint. As they got close Will could see it was Ria, the young imperial member of the Companions.

“Please! We need help, do you have any health potions! We used all ours and he’s been hurt! Vilkas! There were so many of them!” She was distraught and in tears, bleeding from several lacerations, and babbling in a panic.

“Ria,” Will interrupted forcefully, “calmly, we have potions take us to him explain on the way.” Jenassa’s eyes flicked to Will as the young woman withdrew a healing potion.

“Not for me,” Ria cried, shoving the potion away from her, refusing to touch it, “for Vilkas! I don’t understand why, but he’s not healing like he should! We used all of our potions and they helped briefly but then he got worse and worse and then he couldn’t move! I don’t know if it’s poison or some kind of curse!”

“Tell me about the bandits Ria.” Will commanded as the three of them jogged off the road and up an unmarked path to a sheltered overhang near the mouth of a streamlet.

“They knew we were companions and that seemed to excite them! Like they wanted to kill us because we were Companions.” Ria’s voice was anguished as she led them to Vilkas’ side. “Why would anyone want to kill Companions? They’re heroes. Legends even!”

“Ria, how do you know they were after the Companions specifically?” Will questioned.

“Because they called us Companions and mentioned his armor! Only Members of the circle wear armor like Vilkas does. They knew!” 

Will felt chills erupt along her skin at Ria’s words. She knelt at Vilkas’ side holding a potion to his lips. The large armored Nord was unconscious and she had to massage his throat to get him to swallow and he still choked on some of it. What Ria described sounded an awful lot like what the Silver Hand would say if the dragonborn joined the Companions and Farkas took them to Dustman’s cairn. She studied Vilkas’ skin, it was clammy and pale and seemed graying a bit around the mouth and eyes. The color that briefly returned to his skin from the small amount of potion she had forced him to consume seemed to be waning again and Will attempted to give him more.

“Ria does he have any open wounds?” Will asked running her hand over his armor and finding nothing on the front.

“I don’t know, he’s so big, I couldn’t move him, he didn’t say anything to me.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Will lied. Because of course she lied, she wasn’t a doctor! She wasn’t a nurse! Potion goes in, good health comes out, that was the extent of her medical knowledge in Skyrim. She knew what different herbs did based on her training with Kinnara but there was still so much to learn and nothing that would be useful in this situation came to mind. 

“Help me turn him over so I can check his back.” Between the three of them they managed to get him on his stomach and Ria began to sob in earnest at the pool of blood on the ground beneath him.

“By the divines no!” She cried, her hands reaching for her friend.

“Jenassa, can you help me remove his chest plate?”

“Aye.” She said, beginning the laborious process of undoing the straps and buckles securing the plate to Vilkas’ body. With Ria’s help, Jenassa managed to get the armor off him, exposing a deep stab wound in his lower back, the skin was pallid and gray and soft to the touch, oozing a slow steady trickle of blood and pus. Will poured some of her healing potion into the wound and it bubbled and frothed, slowly sealing itself The infected tissue seemed to regenerate for a few moments and they all held their breath. Then the skin began to darken to that ash gray shade and paled in the areas surrounding it. Will tried to think what it could be. It had to have something to do with the silver hand! They used silver weapons so maybe this was a wound caused by silver weapons! If healing potions couldn’t cure them, maybe the members of the circle would know what could?

“Jenassa, take Ria and get a member of the circle. Aela, Farkas, or Skjor. Tell them what happened. Tell them bandits of the Silver Hand attacked Vilkas and he was gravely wounded and we can’t get him to recover. Tell them  _ exactly _ that. Do you understand?” Ria nodded erupting in a fresh set of sobs.

“It will be done.” Jenassa assured her, before turning to Ria. “Get a hold of yourself girl! Our feet must be swift if we are to save your friend this day.” Will had no time to watch them disappear as she let her fingers slide and trace along Vilkas’ skin, using sight and touch to seek out any wounds or scratches, trying to massage what potion she could into every scrape and cut. She managed to work another potion into his mouth and down his throat, getting more into him than on him this time and as before his color improved for a time before fading once more. She stripped him of his gauntlets and boots and then began working on his cuisses. She inspected his entire body, finding another deep laceration on his hip that had blood soaked through the bunting of the protective undercoat he wore with his armor. As she pulled it off, the sticky scab it had formed ripped and fresh blood began oozing from the wound. She treated it as she had all his wounds, marveling at the way the flesh knit together before her eyes, only scarring on the deeper more significant wounds. When she was sure his body had been fully tended and he was no longer in danger of bleeding out she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him over so he was on his back once more, she put his bedroll beneath his head and grabbed a clean linen shirt from his pack. She took his canteen from his bag and refilled it quickly with water from the stream. Making a small campfire she put a pot on to heat some of the water to use to bathe him. He reeked of sweat, earth, and sickness.

His skin began to darken, his unnatural pallor deepening and she scrambled to give him yet another healing potion. 

_ What do I do? _ She worried to herself.  _ I don’t know what to do! _ She felt at a loss, helpless. Vilkas was a good man. He was not supposed to die like this! Unknowingly, in her worry and sorrow she gripped the token of Hircine in her desperation, struggling to control her own internal panic. 

“Please,” she whispered brokenly, smoothing his hair back from his face, “Please, divines, help me. Help me help him.” He looked so young, the cares of the Master of Arms and the haunted quality that lit his face when conscious erased, his perpetually furrowed brow now smooth and unconcerned even as life slowly fled his body. Will didn’t know what to do about a werewolf with silver poisoning and here before her lay one of Skyrims greatest warriors, and noblest men dying because Wilhelmina Jones was too stupid and useless to have a clue! Every part of her cried out silently at the injustice! 

As if from a great distance a small voice whispered inside of her head as familiar as her own heartbeat in her chest- but at the same time as it was within herself it was outside as well.

_ “What would you do to help this son of Hircine?” _ The voice whispered, still and small, and yet loud as a siren. Will felt a trembling shiver run up the back of her neck. This was Vilkas of the Companions! He was a motherfucking legend! He was funny and made jokes with his friends. He looked out for Farkas and Tilma and worshiped Kodlak so much that his death sent him spiraling into a grieving rage. He was not supposed to die here!

“Anything.” She whispered back to the voice that both was and was not.

“Then let me in.” She nodded slowly and suddenly it was she that was and was not. 

She was aware but she was not in control. A golden light flooded the area, pouring from her like sunbeams through the clouds hands newly callused with the use of blade and bow slammed, soft as silk and rough as leather on to the mound of wasted, graying flesh. A deep pulse emitted from those hands blasting into the body of the warrior and the surrounding land. Heat and light poured from her with a litany of words that had no meaning for her but felt ancient and wild as cushioned loam and salted sea at the dawn of the earth. More was needed, more was demanded, more was given. The shockwave pulsed again and something inside her ripped, she heard the rending. She felt the shredding of some deep and untouched part of herself and she screamed. She could smell blood, feel it hot and sticky from her ears, from her eyes, from her nose. She wailed in anguish, unable to stop it from pulling, taking, but she had nothing left to give. 

With a rushing roar like sea to shore the silence was deafening as she was left once more in command of herself. She collapsed atop him, unconscious, unaware. She did not see the healthy tinge return to his skin as the gray faded into memory. She did not hear his ragged breath drawn sharp and swift into lungs starved for the sweet and untarnished taste of oxygen bereft of the taint of metal poison. She was completely oblivious even as her near naked companion wrapped his arms, thick and strong like the roots of the world around her supine body as she recovered what was taken from her with such vicious force. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in game silver weapons don't do shit if you're a werewolf but in your human form. That's stupid I changed it. There was not a lot of lore regarding silver or what happens when a were is hurt with silver, the only thing elder scrolls says is +20 to damage against undead and in skyrim werewolves. So I looked up silver poisoning and symptoms, then looked up the Fae and iron and made silver for were's parallel to that because it was so much more interesting that way. The Fae are creatures of the ephemeral, rooted in magic, air, and sky so earth and metals are opposite their nature then it seems they once made an agreement with iron and broke their side of it so iron poisons them and only a large dose of magic can cure them. Well Will has a teeny mana pool so when what happened happened it drained her mana and dried out the well burning her out from the inside. And this is where she learns she will never be a mage. 
> 
> For Jenassa I tried to put myself in the headspace of why she would say what she does but turn out to be such a great follower. One of the problems I have with Stormcloaks is their whole skyrim is for the Nords mentality and figured can I do something with this? Outlanders are frowned upon by Dunmer and All Dunmer are looked down on by Ulfric and his ilk so maybe Jenassa was dying to be a good guy but just couldnt as a Dunmer in Skyrim make it as a merc who was also good.


	8. Chapter 8: Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A healing and a rescue. Vilkas wants the same thing as the beast within and he knows that cannot be trusted. Still, his connection to Will is instant and he wonders if it can be entirely blamed on the magic she used to save him.

Vilkas awoke slowly, the beast within him strangely subdued. He ached all over, and recalling where he was and what had happened came back to him in sluggish bursts accompanied by sharp piercing pains in his temples, throbbing a beat in harmony with his pulse. He remembered the Silver Hand ambushing him and Ria. They attacked as a horde. The silver metal of their blades, biting, piercing, stinging, burning. Ria struggling valiantly against them, cutting down her share of foes but numbers overwhelmed them both. They managed to lead the group into a giant camp and make their escape, the shared harmony of fighting back to back for so long empowering them to telegraph their intentions to each other as each knew where the other would be in the intricate and deadly dance of battle as they fought for their lives. 

Vilkas was wounded, bloodied and dying. He knew the taint of silver would rob him of life before he could get back to Whiterun. The only cure for a were beast experiencing silver poisoning was to transform and feed or a large influx of healing magic, a feat neither he nor Ria were capable of. Ria kept pushing their potions on him, a fool's hope, though she knew it not, but one he could not deny her as she entreated him through tears of fear and self flagellation. He would spare her the guilt caused by his death if he could. As the grim specter of the end of all things crept closer, he could not recall anything beyond their escape.

His silver eyes opened. Blinked shut, blurring light and dim horizon taking shape and he began scanning his surroundings. A pot was burning on a fire. A small stream flowed near the haphazard campsite, away from the shallow overhang where he lay, burbling a path further down into the valley; he could see giants and mammoths in the distance, feel the booming of their footsteps in the earth even from as far away as they were. He turned to the heavy weight in his arm and was startled to find a woman wrapped around him, his arms encircling her, his shoulder cradling her head. 

The world narrowed to a pinpoint. Nothing but her serene features composed in gentle slumber mattered in that moment. The world went mute. Her scent filled his focus and he inhaled deeply, mouth parting to taste her on the air. Goosebumps danced across his skin, hyper-sensitized where he could feel her touching him, his neck hairs standing at attention as all light and color seemed to centralize on her. 

Every breath she pulled and released seemed in tune with his own. A fact he noted with wondering detachment. He slowly, reverently, pushed back her hair from her face. The tangled sunset mane was sticky with blood, both face and hair stained brown with the drying fluid, but he recognized her. It was the Nord redhead from the Bannered Mare, the one Farkas and Aela were so insistent he encourage to join the Companions. What was she doing here? In his arms? He thought to release her, to disentangle her from himself and put distance between them and that was when the first stirring if his wolf made its presence and preference known. 

**_Mine_ **.

A single word, accompanied by a soft growl. Vilkas felt a shock shoot through his core and the world returned sound and scent and he was at once himself again. Vilkas was instantly enraged. He was the master of his beast, not the other way around! He had subdued it long ago ensuring his own human dominance. He turned his accusing gaze on the woman again, what had so recently been awed reverence now distrust and suspicion. Delicate features, strong jaw, dainty nose, skin soft and pampered, she was not what he would have ever expected to be so instantly and strongly attracted to.

A delicate floral fragrance mixed with her womans musk, dancing and flirting with his sense of smell, and his lip curled. Her body was both soft and strong beside him and he could feel her curves pressed up against him, a delightful contrast of femininity. He was not in his armor. Where was his armor? He looked around in concern, his stomach seizing in anxiety only to ease back when he saw it discarded nearby. His concern eased, his perusal of the woman he held continued and with it an increasing pleasant pressure made itself known. She was curved and lush in all the right places and it had been a long time since he had lain with a woman. But was it he or the wolf that wanted her? Vilkas did not trust the beast inside him and so he did not trust the feeling of rightness that accompanied her presence in his arms.

He tried to quell his body’s increasing awareness by taking inventory of his pains. The cut that should have killed him in his back twinged in sympathetic remembrance of an agony now gone, and his hip throbbed but he could tell none of his wounds were any danger anymore. Had she healed him? He had resigned himself to death, refusing to transform again, his word given to Kodlak, binding, even with his life at stake. Was she a mage then? Why was her face covered in dried blood? Was it hers? His? He jostled her gently but she did not respond.

In spite of his wolf’s protest which he ruthlessly ignored he disentangled himself from her to examine his wounds and dressings and don his armor. He took the pan off the fire and filled it with water from the nearby stream, using it to bathe the blood from her face. She whimpered beneath his ministrations, her brow furrowing. Her breath changed, becoming shallow and erratic and gasping. She folded in on herself, arms crossing over her chest, knees up as if struggling to contain a great pain. Her face contorting in agony, she moaned! Vilkas was alarmed, his beast was incensed, clawing inside him to go to her to hold her, to protect her from her pain and shelter her from harm.

Vilkas was unsure what to do. He had inspected her for wounds and there were none. Whines and whimpers fraught with pain came from the woman and finally, in spite of himself, he knelt at her side, pulling her into his arms, cradling her close, almost unaware of his actions as the wolf within him howled, spurring him to action. The resulting change was almost instantaneous. Her body ceased its trembling, her anguished moans stopped, her brow smoothed and her breathing resumed a more normal rhythm which, he once again noted, seemed in sync with his own.

“By the divines,” he muttered aloud, “what witchery is this?” He ended up holding her with one arm and fumbling through her pack for food with the other as she lay draped across his lap. He tried to ignore the satisfaction of his beast or the possessiveness he felt, the bone deep satisfaction of having her there. He tried to lay her down two more times throughout the day, once when he needed to relieve himself, her torment was unmistakable and he quite literally felt as if his own heart were being torn as she wept even in her unconscious state; and again when he had to build up the fire.

He did not understand why but when he parted from her he could sense a tenuous connection and if he moved more than a few feet apart she was in agony. Conversely, as long as he held her she was fine. He had determined that if there was no improvement in her condition that he would carry her to Whiterun the following day. He needed a healer. He dribbled water into her mouth from a clean rag periodically throughout the day to try to keep her from getting dehydrated but could not fail to notice her light skin pinking in the sun and her lips chapping in the wind. He pulled her cloak around them to shield her from the wind and sun and spent most of the day wondering about the woman in his arms and where Ria had gone. He hoped she had gone for help.

Ria and Jenassa sprinting toward Whiterun were a sight to behold. Travelers moved from their paths, even guards slid out of their way as they sped past on feet given wings of desperation and purpose. They were hours out from Whiterun at a steady pace but worry and promise, and generous and frequent use of all Jenassa and Will’s remaining stamina potions drove them forward to complete the journey in almost half the time it otherwise would have taken. Frantic feet pushed them over cobblestone paths and up the steps of Jorrvaskr. Farkas and Skjor were training behind the great ship turned longhouse and Aela was idly fletching arrows as she watched when the two burst in on their afternoon activities.

As if seeing them caused something inside her to break Ria fell gasping to her knees and began sobbing in earnest. Aela dropped her arrow striding forward, she bent to take Ria by the elbow and ask what was wrong but Farkas beat her to it, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Ria, what’s wrong? Where… where is my brother?” Ria was in no condition to answer, unable to speak through her sobs and gasps.

“Vilkas has been wounded by members of the Silver Hand. We were told to get a member of the circle and tell them this was what happened. Healing potions are not working and we fear he is dying if he is not already dead.” Jenassa stood calmly in the face of the circle’s wrath, Aela’s lips peeled back in a snarl, Farkas threw his shoulders back and chin out bowing up to emit an aura of dark menace. Skjor, with voice as cold as the winds that blew across the Sea of Ghosts and a visage that that painted a promise of murder broke the thunderous silence at her statement.

“Who told you to get a member of the circle? Are you working with the Silver Hand?”

“What? No! Will, my traveling companion told me, she insisted I had to tell the circle and they needed to know it was the Silver Hand. She seemed rather insistent about that part actually demanding I get it right before allowing me to leave.”

“Skjor, maybe she knew we would be the only ones who knew what was needed to heal him?” Aela stated, though her voice sounded as if she were asking a question.

“Aye, but that would mean she knows our secret. If so, I want to know how she found out.”

“Vilkas won’t change!” Farkas burst out, stark terror etching his face in lines of despair. “He promised Kodlak he wouldn’t.”

“Then he’ll die!” Aela’s voice was an anguished whisper.

“Maybe not.” Skjor muttered in a voice still promising murder. “Ria, get Danica, tell her horses will be waiting for the two of you at the stable. Ride with her to Vilkas. Tell her he needs healing that will involve a great deal of magic. She will need several potent magicka potions, inform her if Vilkas lives, the Companions will reimburse her considerably and a large donation will be made to the temple. You, you’re that mercenary that likes to hang out in the Drunken Huntsman, I’ve seen you around Jenna right?”

“Jenassa.”

“You will lead us to Vilkas.”

“Of course.” Jenassa replied. In moments Skjor, Farkas and Aela were armed and armored and racing for the front gates. Aela peeled off to hire two horses at the Whiterun Stables for Ria and Danica while Farkas and Skjor followed Jenassa up the road. Skjor gave her a stamina potion to restore her flagging feet and desperate lungs. It seemed to be more potent than the ones she was used to which was good for both her and Vilkas. Several minutes passed before Aela caught up to their group but no words were exchanged, all energy focused on the journey. Several minutes after, Ria and Danica tore past them on horseback and Jenassa heaved a sigh of relief. She prayed to Mephala to protect her friend and speed her companions on their journey. Still, it would take hours to get to Will and Vilkas, had been hours since they left them alone in the wilds, Jenassa had no clue what plagued the warrior but she held little hope he would be alive when they returned to him and Will. 

Vilkas was struggling with himself, torn between the complete and possessive rightness he felt holding the woman and the wary revulsion he felt at being in accord with his beast. How could he, the man, want the same thing as the wolf within him? It was unnatural. As unnatural as the still as death sleep the woman seemed trapped in. As he held her, wrapped in her cloak and as close to the fire for warmth as they could get he could not resist the rush of contentment her scent brought to him. It was an allure he knew he could not trust but one he yearned for with every fiber of his being. Since becoming a were beast he had known rage and restlessness, an uncanny alertness to every aspect of his life, the burden of always being poised on the knife's edge of battle readiness. This was the nature of the beast, the intense focus. The downside was never being able to turn it off, to release the days tensions and worries if only for a moment. Yet now, his beast rumbled with a contentment that made every part of Vilkas the man strain and quiver with yearning. He had pined for so long for a chance to lay down his burdens and find a moment of easy rest and here it was, offered to him now if he but chose to take it! 

The sound of her heart beating out a rhythm in sync with his own sang a sirens song, ensorcelling his spirit. It was enchanting that her breaths matched his so perfectly, as if she were made for him, made to be his. And oh that thought was a heady aphrodisiac in and of itself. It had to be some form of sorcery, but what it meant he did not know. Vilkas had never had much respect for magic users, his past with necromancers having colored his perceptions of them as a whole. The rare encounter with Farengar Secret-Fire, the court wizard in Whiterun did little to endear their ilk to him.

As the sky darkened a light drizzle began to fall and a thin fog began to rise up from the land around them. A damp chill filled the air and he held her tighter. He prayed to the divines that help would come soon, for her sake, but also for his. He found himself nodding off only to jerk awake as time passed excruciatingly slowly. He would break the long stints of waiting and napping with breaks to water the girl or stoke the fire. The passage of time was numbing to his wariness. He found himself staring, unabashed, at the play of firelight over her creamy white skin, enjoying the faint hint of color beneath her smooth complexion. The way her hair captured the flickering flames in hues of sunset and gold held him captive in awe as if the gilded strands were alive with light. He admired the pairing of her light skin with his dusky tanned limbs and in lulled reverent wonder dragged his long dark fingers over her pale arms just to marvel at the contrast of him and her and him on her. His eyes lifted from their arrested trance as hooves pounded the earth nearby, a voice crying out from the dark.

“They’re near here!” A piercing whinny no doubt caused by the careless jerk of reins.

“Ria!” He cried out, “Ria is that you girl?”

“Vilkas! Praise the eight! You’re alive!” Two large golden horses tripped lightly from the fog and Ria and Danica Pure-spring dismounted.

“Aye, I’m fine,” he called in reassurance, “but something is wrong with the woman.”

“Let me see.” Danica ran a lightly glowing hand over Will’s supine form, frowning lightly. “Ria I need some of the potions of magicka, at least three. She’s used all of her magic, she is experiencing extreme mana burnout.” 

“What does that mean?” Vilkas whispered harshly, unable to keep the anxiety from his voice.

“She’s expelled far more energy than she has to spare.” Danica’s glowing light traced a looping path between Vilkas and Will, her mouth parting in shock. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” She whispered. 

“What do you mean?” He bit out.

“She should not be alive, she’s completely dry. At our core we all have a spark of magic that gives us life, even the least talented among us possesses that spark.” Danica explained even as she cast, the golden light of healing changing to a blue light. “It seems her well is much lower than most- that is to say, she does not have nearly the amount of magic needed to cast even the simplest of spells. Yet she has cast a powerful healing spell, draining her magica completely and feeding off her own life force.”

“She can’t die! She has to have something left! She breathes even now.” Vilkas was insistent, desperately trying to forestall the rising panic of his wolfblood.

“No, you are right, be calm Companion. She lives because she has somehow tied her life’s spark to yours. It’s rather amazing and I would dearly love to understand just how she managed to do this.”

“How is that possible?” Ria asked.

“Can you heal her?” Vilkas rasped.

“Of course, seeing as she did not die when she should have, I am assuming so. Now that I know what’s wrong once we replenish her magica and I cast a healing spell she should be fine, though she will no doubt spend the next few days exhausted.” Danica gently and expertly poured three potions into Will using a funnel and a bit of magic. 

Will stirred and her eyes fluttered open. She found herself locking her ice blue eyes with Vilkas’ intense silver gaze.

“You’re alive!” She breathed, the relief in her voice warming him considerably, causing his stomach to flutter and he smiled at her before he could think better of himself. “And so pretty.” Ria giggled, Danica smiled, and Vilkas’ let his mouth fall open in surprise.

“She’ll be a bit out of her head, you’ll have to forgive her for anything she says during her recovery.” Danica explained. Vilkas just stared down at Will clutching her to him with a possessiveness he had not earned. Will smiled dreamily up at him.

“I wanna climb you.” She breathed reverently, “Like a tree.” Vilkas grinned.

“Really?” He asked lightly, drinking in her punch drunk smile.

“Yeah,” She slowly drawled, “and ride you like a pony.” Ria and Danica began laughing as the three of them sat around in relief. Will felt her eyelids droop heavily. “Ponies are pretty, but not as pretty… as you.” And she fell asleep.

Vilkas was both bemused and delighted. Danica and Ria gathered materials to make a travois. Now that Will was healed her breath no longer synced with his, her life force was her own once again. Vilkas analyzed what he felt. He recognized that he felt less drawn to her, the need to be near her was significantly weakened but he could not deny he still felt a pull to her. After Danica restored her mana well- whatever that meant- Vilkas felt slightly lost, like a mooring come untethered lost to the wind. He clutched Will tightly to him knowing soon he would have to give her up and though he was loath to admit it, neither he nor his wolf wanted that.

Regardless of what he wanted the frame was ready before he was and reluctantly he gently moved Will to the cloak stretched between the poles. Using some rope they attached the front poles to the saddle of one of the mares and secured Will to the frame allowing Vilkas to lift the other end, with Will sleeping on top. Danica remounted her horse while Ria led the horse pulling Will along. The three of them moved at a brisk pace, Vilkas being careful to keep his gait smooth so as not to jostle Will over much and cause her discomfort. Less than halfway back to town they met up with the remainder of the Circle.

“Brother!” Farkas gasped in relief, laying a huge hand on Vilkas’ shoulder and squeezing it with fraternal affection. “With what we heard I was expecting the worst.”

“Aye, no doubt,” Vilkas answered, his eyes meeting his brother’s concerned gaze, “and truly, were it not for her,” he indicated Will’s supine form, “I would have been dead, leastwise that’s how Danica tells it.” Farkas’ gaze lingered on the woman in question.

“Did I not tell you she was something special brother?” Vilkas tried to ignore the irrational jealousy he felt as his brother eyed the woman.

“Aye, you did.” He bit out. Farkas jerked his gaze from Will to Vilkas in askance but Vilkas avoided making eye contact, startled at the brief bloom of possessive rage, he focused instead on shifting the poles slightly in his hands as if to retain a more firm grip.

“Here,” Farkas said after a moment, “Let me take a turn with that.”

“I can handle it, Farkas, let me be.” Vilkas stated mulishly.

“Best do as he says whelp.” Skjor stated from behind, causing Vilkas to look over his shoulder. “You’re only just recovering from your own injuries. Besides I need to talk with you.” Vilkas sighed heavily, handing the travois over to his brother, Skjor and himself falling behind the group to have a discussion in what privacy distance could afford them.

“So how are you holding up, son?” Skjor asked him, softly.

“I’m good. The girl healed me up a moment from death's door, so the healer and Ria would have me believe. I know the seriousness of my wounds ‘ere she healed them and I find myself inclined to agree. ‘Twas the Silver Hand that ambushed us. Ria and I were overwhelmed. Those bastards grow bold to attack Companions on the road.”

“Aye,” Skjor agreed, rage burning in his eyes at the thought, “and we will see that they come to regret such boldness in time, but the girl, Will, she knew it was the Silver Hand that attacked you and she knew to ask for all the members of the circle by name. She knew we would know how to heal you from those particular wounds.”

“What do you mean?” Vilkas asked his hackles rising at the implicit threat lacing Skjor’s tone. Skjor appraised him sharply as he continued to speak.

“What I mean is she knows about the circle. She at least knows more than any normal citizen would know about us, perhaps she knows we carry the beast blood.”

Vilkas felt moved to defend her though he could agree with and understand Skjor’s concerns.

“Skjor, she could have let me die were her intentions ill.”

“Aye, or could be that she is in pursuit of greater prey, in league with the Silver Hand in the hopes that she could take down the entire Circle or perhaps go after the Harbinger?” Skjor's eyes were hard, and Vilkas could not keep the warning rumble from his own voice as he leapt to Will’s defense.

“If that were her plan then why risk her life? According to Danica she could have died doing what she did to save me. The entire Circle came to save me, would this not be the ideal time to implement her plan to take out the Circle, were that indeed what she intended to do?”

“It would.” Skjor agreed, his watchful eyes scanning their surroundings with a predator's skill for noting probable prospective ambush sights.

“Farkas says that he and Aela were looking to recruit her but you disagreed.” Skjor let the statement lie but the question was implicit in his tone.

“Farkas showed me a girl too soft for a warrior's life. A maid used to pampering her skin with scented creams and stuffing her face with boiled creme treats. He showed me a lady accustomed to servants and rich estates and not a shield maiden. She showed no signs of a soldier’s skill.”

“Look again, brother.” Skjor intoned softly, his one blind eye seeming to pierce Vilkas with its intensity, “I see a lass with strength in every line, every muscle and sinew even as she lay unconscious. Her companion, the mercenary Jenassa, speaks with admiration of her heart and courage and in between some mild hero worship she speaks of a woman who is skilled enough to take down many dangers on the roads of Skyrim.” Vilkas could tell where this was going and he wanted no part of it. The girl was trouble. His beast raging to be near her, the man aching for her closeness, he did not need this particular brand of turmoil in his life. Skjor wanted to recruit her. It was the sensible thing to do given the many mysteries she presented and the testimonials of a mercenary and the other members of the circle. Still Vilkas balked.

“Skjor, she’s a mage. She used magic to heal me and while I am grateful for that, the Companions fight with shield and steel. Ours is the life of a warrior not a magic wielder, I do not doubt the girl's heart, just her arm.”

“Well something needs to be done about her when she awakens.” Skjor commanded in a tone that rang with finality. “She has saved your life and for that reason I am willing to give her a chance to prove her mettle and her honor. But you are the Master of Arms. If you do not see her potential than needs must you think of another way to determine what she knows about the Companions, about the nature of the Circle, of the beast blood and us, and if we need to do anything to see that she continues to keep what she knows to herself or if she is a threat.”

“Perhaps Kodlak would be a better person for this task than I.” Vilkas stated in a frustrated rush. In truth, Skjor’s appraisal of the girl left him shaken. Had he been so wrong about her? It seems he was the only one of the circle to doubt her potential. Perhaps he needed to reevaluate his initial assessment.

“I think that’s a good idea, the old man has a sharp mind and has always had a keen eye for talent. He spends far too much of his time shut up in the depths of Jorrvaskr. Bring the girl to him, see what he has to say and maybe test her arm at least.” Vilkas found himself nodding as the grizzled veteran jogged off. 

Vilkas watched Skjor position himself at the front of their group, Aela behind him but only just. Vilkas moved up to retake command of Will’s sled from his brother and Farkas relinquished control easily enough and fell into step behind the pack, ready to defend the rear if any were foolish enough to attack. As they moved briskly along, daylight having long since given way to shadowed night, Vilkas looked anew at his unconscious savior, wrapped in fur and darkness with only the moonlight to illumine her resting features. 

When he had studied her in the dim lighting of the Bannered Mare, he had acknowledged her beauty but he had seen how soft she was, even felt it in her undeveloped limbs as he pointed out her obvious lack of martial conditioning. But though it had only been several days since their last meeting he could now see the conditioning of her body, her lean and tone muscles. Whatever she had done to augment herself, it was done through no natural means. She seemed to have developed a lifetime of strength and conditioned power in little more than a week! When she had moved through the inn she was graceless, as if unaware of her body and its relationship to the space around it. He wondered if that had changed as well. He wondered how had such a drastic metamorphosis happened so suddenly.

Every bit of him that was the beast cried out to him to possess her, to make her his. This alone would have been warning enough that he needed to be suspicious of her. But every part of him that was Vilkas, Nord warrior, observant Man at Arms, and scholar, worried that there was simply too much about the strange young woman that he did not know or understand. What he did not know could mean danger to those he loved, and so he understood Skjor’s caution. But she had saved him and she had given him peace- if only for a moment. So while that was not worth everything, it was worth much. To him. 

He would bring her to Kodlak. He trusted the old man more than he trusted anyone. He would test her arm. He would learn her secrets. But as the wolf inside him seemed to rise up in gleeful anticipation he brutally pulled it back, asserting his will. He would not give in to his physical impulses and baser instincts. He was a man, and man was the master. No beast and certainly no girl would threaten his own self mastery. In spite of his curse he was a man not an animal and he would behave as such. He would simply have to behave with redoubled caution when engaging with the woman who provoked such a strong and primal response from him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go over this so many times! First, between the action and Vilkas' introspection some of what I wanted to convey was just not happening! Then it was too soft and sweet and sappy blech! Vilkas is perpetually at war with the beast inside him, if it wants something than he he has to not want it, he has pitted himself against himself since he learned the Beast blood would deny him entrance to Sovngarde. This is going to be a crucial part of how his character develops and his interactions with Will, I needed to get it right. I hope this chapter comes across well, answers any dangling plot threads and maybe inspires a squee or two?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will returns a fathers sword to a grateful son, beats up some patriarchal jerks for intimidating an old lady, makes friends with some guards and Farkas, finds an amulet for a neglectful priest who thinks he got game and gets her butt handed to her by Vilkas before joining the Companions.

Will awoke to unfamiliar surroundings. The air was warm and sweet, smelling of pine, apples, and dried herbs- she would later learn these were the rush mats or rushes having been freshly replaced for the fall, and sprinkled with potpourri between the mats and the ornate rugs of the Companion halls. There were hushed murmurs in the distance and there was a flickering behind her eyes indicating the presence of firelight. She sat up, slowly, feeling utterly drained yet wide awake.

“Hello dear,” A voice next to her whispered softly. Will turned toward the voice, letting her eyes adjust to the shadows. A kind, weather-worn face filled with maternal concern smiled gently from the darkness. “I’m Tilma. You are in the hall of the Companions and you are safe. Be at peace.”

“Vilkas?” Will croaked, her voice hoarse with disuse.

“He is safe,” Tilma answered, pouring a cup of water from a pitcher sitting on a bedside table and holding it to Will’s lips. Will drank greedily, the cold bite of the water soothing her dry, aching throat, “or so I would imagine, thanks to you, or so I hear.” There was a smile in her voice and Will sent a guarded grin back in return.

“I did my best.”

“Aye, you did,” Tilma whispered, squeezing Will’s hand as she laid the cup aside, “and thanks to you a man I have helped raise since he was a boy, one who I love as a son, lives on. You have my gratitude and should you need anything just let me know.”

“I need to use the bathroom.” Will muttered wryly. Tilma’s brow furrowed in confusion and Will quickly amended her statement. “The privy, I need to... uh… make water.”

“Ah.” Tilma acknowledged, “there’s a chamber pot just under your bed.” She made as if to rise but Will made a face that echoed her distaste at that idea.

“Eww,” She whined, “please no, is there an outhouse or special room, the idea of just letting it go and someone walking in and hearing or worse- seeing me- I would probably die of embarrassment.” 

Tilma chuckled, “there is a privy down the hall, I just assumed you were not feeling up to moving around after your ordeal. The healer said you would need rest for the next couple of days.”

“That may be so but I would slay a troll right now just to keep my dignity. Especially here. In this place.” Will finished in a whisper looking around in awe. She could barely believe she was in the home of The Companions.

“I’ll help get her there and back again, Tilma.” A sleepy voice opposite her whispered. Will peered intently into the darkened room, seeing movement in the shadows opposite her bed.

“Very well, child. Thank you. I’m to bed then, now that our guest has roused, if you could fill her in on what she should know, I’ll be back in time to fix breakfast for the lot of you.”

It was Ria, who offered to help Will to the bathroom. Ria also kept up a quiet chatter the entire way, allowing Will to lean on her as they walked the halls, as in spite of her words, Will still felt weak. Ria continued gushing over how impressed everyone was with Will’s supposed heroics, unaware that the entire time she spoke Will just needed a bit of silence. Even when Will struggled to do what needed to be done over the girls constant stream of consciousness- which was disrupting her stream- her chatter never abated. Will’s bladder had always been a bit shy but this was ridiculous. As she started and stopped for the third time she finally called out in an aggrieved whisper.

“Ria! Stop talking. Just be quiet for one minute, please.” Ria was quiet. Will took a deep breath and thought of the waterfalls roaring and flowing near Riverwood, cascading over the rocks and filling the air with cool mists, purposefully and pointedly blocking out where she was and who else was there. As a result, she soon felt the heavy, painful, pressure alleviate. She sighed in relief and looked around for something to clean herself with, recoiling at the hides wrapped around the stick that looked like a toilet plunger.

“Ria?” Will whined softly.

“Yes?” Ria asked, peeking her head in to stare at Will sitting on the latrine with her pants around her ankles. Will’s cheeks burned in mortification. 

“Do we have any clean rags and water?”

“Yeah, hold on a minute.” Ria disappeared briefly before returning with the requested materials. Will breathed a sigh of relief and cleaned herself off before leaving the sparse room with an apologetic smile at the companion awaiting her. Ria then continued her speech as if she had never been interrupted. Will had been given a bed in Jorrvaskr to recuperate as thanks for saving Vilkas’ life. When she felt better she was to check in with Danica Pure-Spring at the temple of Kynareth and then see Kodlak so he could thank her in person for what she had done. 

Will had been out cold for almost two days if one counted the day she healed Vilkas which Ria said Vilkas certainly counted. Farkas was also looking forward to thanking her for her efforts on his brother's behalf and Jenassa had asked to send word if and when she was ready to set out from Whiterun again to continue their travels together-free of charge. Ria continued to speak as she tucked Will back into her bed but Will only half listened as drowsiness beckoned her back to sleep even before her head hit the pillow.

  
  


Will spent the following two days splitting her time between her bed in Jorrvaskr and a bed in the temple of Kynareth, being attended to by Danica Pure-spring. Danica was saddened to learn that Will had no idea what she had done to preserve Vilkas’ life and had not a clue how she had joined her life spark to his. The healer explained to Will that she should not try any magic.

“You see your mana well is smaller than anyone’s I have ever seen. Even children have a larger well than you. This means that any spell you attempt to cast will cost more than you can afford and that is dangerous for any mage. Once you burn through your mana the only source of power left is life. Perhaps, if you pray to Magnus or seek counsel with the college of Winterhold you could get help with your problem; but that is the extent of my knowledge I am afraid.” 

Will was a bit disappointed. She loved the idea of being able to do magic and existing in a world where magic was real but being unable to participate or use it herself was a real let down. 

It was very peaceful in the temple and Will found that she was able to get the deepest, most restful sleep of her life there. Danica also assured her that it was also one of the most healing sleeps as well, the healing chimes were powered by the breath of Kynareth. Will found the fog of grief over losing her world, ever present in the back of her mind seemed to fade a little bit more within the temple walls and the cloud of chaotic anxiety provoked by the constant worry of survival eased from her shoulders as well, as if she were allowed to lay down a burden she had not known she was carrying.

It was there in the temple that Jenassa found Will and together the two of them returned the sword to Amren. Will was moved to see the sheen of tears in his eyes as he reverently took the blade from her.

“I can’t thank you enough.” He stated quietly, his eyes caressing the polished metal of the blade as his hands lovingly stroked over the runic etchings. “It’s like having him back with me, you know?” Will just smiled politely. She had never had a family that cared for her so she didn’t really know, but she knew how to be polite. “My father fed his family for years with this blade.” Amren seemed lost in memories, a wistful smile on his face as he drank in the sight of the blade in his hands. He swung it a couple times, doing a few basic forms for good measure. Finally, tearing himself from his nostalgic memories, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to them.

“Now, let me show you a trick my dad taught me about wielding a sword like this.” Amren spent the next forty-five minutes showing Jenassa and Will how to do a neat riposte to parry an overhand swing with a follow up punch that could destroy a man's face in a sword fight. Will found herself delighting in the exercise, not getting winded or needing a rest the entire time which she took to mean that she must be healthy enough to return to work. She made plans with Jenassa to head up to Helgen in the next day or two, the dark elf assuring her that if she was not otherwise hired she would be glad to accompany her and she could be found in the Drunken Huntsman. Will parted ways with her friend and headed over to the inn to check in with Hulda and Lucia next, taking lunch at the inn with the girl who regaled her with tales of unrequited romance between Lars and Braith. 

She was just leaving the inn to go see Kodlak when she noticed the two patriarchs of Clan Battle-Born pressing in close to Fralia Grey-Mane. The elderly woman’s fragile form straight with pride but so tiny before the two towering men, one flaunting his wealth and privilege to intimidate, the other using his youth and build to similar effect. Will clenched her jaw tightly and calmly strode to stand behind the grande dame of clan Gray-Mane.

"Foolish old woman!” The elder Battle-Borne spat, ignoring Will, contempt dripping like poison from his words, raising Will’s hackles. “You know nothing! Nothing of our struggles, our suffering!" The old woman was not to be cowed, her spine erect and chin out she placed her hands on her hips, eyes locking with Olaf’s beady-eyed stare.

"Nothing?” She demanded resolutely, “And what of my son, hmm? What of Thorald? Is he nothing?” Her voice pitched lower, quivering in despair, “You don’t get to talk to me about suffering!" It was at this point Battle-Borne the younger, a blond giant with the nom de plume Idolaf, not to be confused with Idiot, jumped in; his tone just as disrespectful and full of contempt as his father’s.

"Your son chose his side, and he chose poorly. Now he's gone. Such is the way of war. The sooner you accept his loss, the better."

"I will never accept his death!” Fralia spat. “My son still lives. I feel it in my heart.” Her eyes narrowed on the two men before her, a lamb unafraid of the lions, “so tell me, Battle-Borns, where is he? Where are you holding my Thorald?"

"Do you believe this old hag?” Olfrid’s voice was mocking, cruel as he tried to victimize and intimidate Fralia. He even took a step closer to her, invading what Will considered Fralia’s personal space. "Holding him?” He jeered, a cruel grin painting his face a macabre imitation of innocence, “why I've got him in my cellar. He's my prisoner.” His cruelty was too much for Will to bear and she slid in close to Fralia’s side, raising her arms in rage, fingers digging into her palms, unaware that she was forming fists. “Face it, cow! Your stupid son is dead! He died a Stormcloak traitor. And you... you best keep your mouth shut before you suffer the same." 

That was it. Will saw red. These two large, grown men- one in full armor and the other wearing his riches like a cloak of entitlement expected that they could tear down someone’s mother, a grieving mother in such an unforgivable manner so openly- so callously- so viciously and without retribution?! This was something Will could not just let go.

With a snarl she shoved Olfrid Battle-Born, patriarch of one of the oldest families in Whiterun, driving him back and ramming a knee into his dick so hard she hoped she turned it inside out! As it was, he was so surprised he sank to the ground with a pained exhalation of air without voice. His brutish son, Idolaf, grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her off his father as if she were nothing more than an angry kitten; but she was not done, not even close. Though he had lifted her as if she weighed nothing and threw her with enough force to bruise her, she had learned from Hircine’s best how to take a fall, how to fly back into the fray, and how to take command of the ebb and flow of a fight; and she was just getting started! 

She came back up swinging. She punched Idolaf in the throat and when he fell back in surprise, choking and gasping; she leapt onto him, wrapping her legs around his middle, dragging a nail down one side of his face while gouging an eye with her other hand until he ripped them from his face, screaming in agony. He swiped blindly, his meaty, ham-handed fist connecting solidly with her left eye, leaving her ears ringing and eye throbbing in fresh pain. But it was nothing to the deaths she had endured in the Hunting grounds. She began wailing on his face with angry fists fueled by righteous indignation on behalf of good mothers everywhere, she must have gotten in a lucky shot because she heard a satisfyingly wet squelch and crunch but she did not let up, squeezing his diaphragm between her thighs as she struck his arms, wrists, hands, head and face over and over again. He feebly tried striking again, punching her in the mouth, splitting her lip and making her jaw sting and throb where the flesh of her mouth met her teeth, but leaving his gushing nose uncovered and she punched it to the side hearing a second wet squelch. 

Idolof was a big man- being a Nord, no doubt if he were a better warrior than shit-talker he could have managed to gain the upper hand, but he was the prize son and heir of a wealthy clan and had more than likely never engaged in a real fight in his life. He blocked his face from her blows as best he could while trying to stem the flow of blood from his facial injuries. Powered by indignant fury, she was unaware of the litany of English curses that fell like drops of malignant rain spewing like sewer filth from her mouth keeping time with every blow she landed. 

Two guards managed to pull her off Idolaf who lay on the ground, moaning in pain, weeping like a maiden, his hands filling with blood from her savagely brutal attack. Will cackled, at that.

“You gods be damned baby! Are you crying?!” Will howled with mocking laughter through her split lip and one good eye. One of the guards holding her was laughing but the other was not amused and he shook her hard enough that she found herself recovering from the red haze of murder that had clouded her senses.

“What’s the matter with you! Fool! You can’t just attack a citizen of Skyrim without cause.” He hissed as the two dragged her toward the prison.

“The fuck you say! They were intimidating that old lady! Her son died and they were mocking her and making fun of her and someone had to teach them shit-talking has consequences.” She spat blood on the ground, her voice mulishly defiant and unapologetic, “You don’t mess with people’s moms!”

“Well I hope it was worth it because you have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you?” Will jerked away from them and straightened. She brushed the dust off her pants and winced slightly, cradling one hand to her chest and covering her swollen eye with the other.

“I’m sorry that you guys didn’t do your job and protect Fralia from those bullies. I’m not sorry I did.”

“Why you arrogant little-” The angry guard snarled. The other guy whooped with laughter.

“Peace Fronji. The lass was defending Fralia Greymane and did you see her take the wind out of Olfrid?” The guard was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and Will couldn’t resist smiling back, wincing as the grin pulled on her lip. Fronji the cantankerous guard threw his arms up in defeat.

“Fine, you take care of this on your own then.” He shook a finger in her face, “and you, I don’t want to hear of you causing any more trouble. The Battle-Borns are rich and powerful and have influential friends. Your intentions may be well and good but they are the kind that hire others to fight their battles for them.” Will sobered, realizing he was just concerned for her. Fronji stormed away leaving her with the other guard.

“Lass, I’m going to have to lock you up for the night, as an example and to hopefully keep the Battle-Borns from pursuing this any further.” Will nodded, following him up the path to the dungeons.

“I understand.” She sighed.

“Also for your crimes you will need to pay restitution of forty septims.” Will snorted.

“That won’t be a problem, my gear is over at Jorrvaskr. And buddy,” The guard arched a brow and Will smirked, “I regret nothing!” He chortled as he divested her of her arms and escorted her to a cell.

“I like you citizen.” Will laughed.

  
  


Farkas came to visit her in the prison that night. Vilkas was having fits. He was going on and on about how the reputation of the Companions was at stake and this was proof that Will did not belong, was not worthy of being one of them. Will was stung.

“Well I don’t recall asking to join you guys so he can suck it!” She retorted hotly.

“Aw, Will, he’s just one guy, everyone else thinks you're great. I’m still hoping you’ll join us. My brother… he’s a difficult man to get close to, hard to know. I don’t think it’s you I think he’s using this as an excuse to just yell and… well be angry. He’s always angry anymore” Farkas finished unhappily, shrugging helplessly and looking troubled. “I know the rest of us are all still hoping you’ll talk to Kodlak.” Will softened as Farkas’ distress poked through her wounded vanity. She reached through the bars and took his big hand in hers.

“It’s alright Farkas, I don’t blame you or any of the Companions really. Not even Vilkas. I just wish… I wish he wasn’t so quick to condemn me. Those jerks had it comin’ and I only gave them what they deserved.” Farkas smiled. 

“Aye, you’re not wrong lass.” He took her hands in his and examined them critically. “You’re a right ugly mess. I hope The Battle-Born lad looks worse than you?”

“He’s not a lad, he’s a grown ass man, married with a kid of his own. He had no business getting up in Frailia’s space like that and saying what he did! Nobody has the right to talk that way to a mother grieving the loss of her child!” Farkas squeezed her hands affectionately.

“He’ll always be a whelp to us. I remember running with him as a kid, he never could handle losing a fight, too much pride and not enough skill to back it up.” Farkas left her to get some bandages and some herb scented water.

“Blue mountain flowers?” Will asked.

“Aye, and crushed wheat powder.”

“This will help heal my hands and lip right up.” Will whispered.

“Aye. It won’t do much for the swelling around your eye though.” He murmured back, his voice pitched low and husky. “You’ll need to see Danica, take a potion, or pray at one of the Shrines when they let you out.” Farkas worked efficiently, his large hands well practiced and rather delicate in handling her abrasions. He gently washed her hands and knuckles with the infused water, deftly wrapping them in bandages. He wrung out the cloth he had used on her hands, the water going pink with the blood from her wounds and began dabbing the mixture over her split and swollen lip. He focused intently on his task allowing Will to relax and feel cared for. 

It was a novel feeling for her, she had always cared for herself. Growing up in the foster system, constantly changing schools and foster families as she grew older she had gotten in her fair share of schoolyard scraps. No one had ever been around to care for her after, to heal her or give a damn about her pain or the reasons why she fought. It felt nice being fussed over and she was surprised to feel the pinch of tears in her eyes, which was stupid she knew since Danica and the Companions had been caring for her for three days now. But this felt more personal, as if this gesture was a kindness meant specifically for her by someone who cared specifically for her. Farkas looked up, meeting her eyes and smiling. She smiled back through the sheen of tears, her face flushing red in embarrassment. 

“I think I’m allergic to the straw in here.” She blurted, pulling her hands away from him and stepping back. Farkas nodded his acceptance.

“I’ll swing by to get you in the morning.” He said, politely ignoring her tears.

“Hey, bring some of my septims, I need to pay my fine!” She called after him.

“Already taken care of!” He called back as he walked away.

  
  


It was just before Dawn when the guards let her out. Farkas was not there but Will had a suspicion the guards were letting her out early because they admired what she had done. Will silently crept back to her bed in Jorrvaskr where she strapped on her sword and buckler. She’d been meaning to swing by the hall of the dead to see if the priest, Andurs, needed assistance as he had in the game; but with all that had happened she had forgotten. She sought to rectify that mistake before breakfast. If the quest was as easy in real life as it had been in game it wouldn’t take long and would make her feel better about leaving Whiterun behind to check Helgen and see if it still stood or had been taken out in a dragon attack. 

Will found she was growing rather fond of Whiterun. It could just be the familiarity, the fact that she had people here that cared for her. Between the Companions and Lucia, Jenassa and even the guard Athuld- the one who liked her and had spent the evening regaling all the guards who would listen with an exaggerated version of her fight with the Battle-Borns- Will had never had so many people who seemed to enjoy who she was as a person. 

In her old life she had acquaintances and coworkers. She had instructors and other people she interacted with on occasion, but at the end, when it mattered, when everything went to shit and the end was the actual end of everything, she had had nobody who really cared about her or knew her. Her last relationship had ended three years ago and she was, quite frankly much happier on her own than she ever had been with a significant other. But that had been a cold and hollow comfort as she met Armageddon alone 

But here people smiled at her, real smiles signifying affection. People liked to be with her. Jenassa was a mercenary for hire and she had promised to accompany her free of charge. Lucia sought her out every time she was in the city if Will didn’t find her first; and aside from Vilkas, most of the companions had welcomed her with warmth and friendship. Yes, Whiterun was beginning to feel like a place she might like to call home. 

And as much as she hoped for that, she shied away from it as well. Home had always been an abstract concept, an unrequited yearning, never really anything she had experienced. It was a warm, longed for feeling that never manifested and more than once in her younger years she had thought she had found that warm place of hopeful promise, only to have it snatched away for one reason or another. So she was cautiously optimistic that Whiterun might be more than just a place to lay her head on the odd occasion.

She found the priest of Arkay sleeping in the pews at the front of the hall of the dead. That was odd? Didn’t he have his own room? She stepped over to the Shrine, bowing her head and whispering a quick prayer to the divine.

“God of death, I have no quarrel with you, and rather a fond affection; for the gift of death is necessary in all things. I pray that should you find me worthy you would heal my wounds earned through just combat in defense of another.” A warm golden light circled and suffused Will, filling her gently with a soft almost affectionate energy and she found herself grinning. The Gods of Skyrim were way better than those of Earth. Here, they were real. “Thank you, Arkay.”

“Ah, a believer I see.” Will turned to face the bearded priest as he sleepily stood from the pew scratching his bald head and stretching, his back popping as he stood. The man was dressed in the humble robes of his order, a full bush of gray beard neatly trimmed and kept, stretched from his chin to the top of his robes. Warm brown eyes stared hopefully at her. Will quirked a brow and smiled at him.

“What’s not to believe when the evidence of his works are all around us. Death comes to us all and life is cheap. The god of death is by his nature the god of life for how can one truly appreciate the value of the latter without the impending doom of the former. Death gives meaning and value to life.”

“Ah, it is truly good to hear one so young speak Arkay’s wisdom with such grace and clarity. Perhaps you could help me recover something precious, something I have sadly, lost.”

“It is why I have come.” Will stated, grinning hugely at the surprise on his face.

“Really?” He breathed.

“Yes. I’m leaving Whiterun- today probably, and I thought I’d pop on by and find your amulet for you.”

“But- but how did you know-” Will smiled coyly.

“Arkay led me to you.”

“Praise his name!” Andurs breathed. "My Amulet of Arkay, it's the source of my divine powers- and also, a sacred badge of office. I misplaced it in the catacombs. I'd look for it, but I've been hearing noises down there. I fear the dead have become... restless. Without that amulet, I'm powerless to confront them. Would you be willing to search for it?"

“I would, but Arkay wants you to be more careful with it. Your Amulet is not a toy to be carelessly tossed aside.” She scolded him in her teacher voice giving him her most teacher-like look. It worked and he seemed abashed.

“Of course! Of course!” Andurs breathed faintly.

“I’ll be back in a minute priest.”

“I’ll just wait here and be sure nothing foul escapes the catacombs.” Will rolled her eyes, but brandished her blade and adjusted her shield. The catacombs were dim, though candles were lit many had burned to nubs and the ones still burning cast threatening shadows across stone walls full of the slumbering dead. The creaking of leather and soft footfalls sounded from the left so, shield up, she made her way down the hall. Suddenly, a skeleton was charging at her, emerging from it’s hidden spot in the shadows, sword in hand raised to strike. She deflected it neatly with her buckler, shoving the blade to the side and sweeping her own sword in a smooth upward diagonal motion, severing the skeletons spine in half and sending a clatter of bones to the floor, the sword it had been holding clanging onto the stone. 

Will kept moving her pace steady, eyes intent, scanning the hall. Another skeleton blocked her path and she swung her sword disconnecting the skull from the body as it too fell to the floor, lifeless. She opened a large door that led to Andurs living quarters. Inside she scanned his room for the undead before she began nosing through his belongings. There were two money pouches, one on a night table and another on a shelf near his bed. Will didn’t touch those she did however pick up the book lying on his table. What would a priest of Arkay need a book on shield blocking techniques for? She scanned it briefly, flipping through the pages, her eyes studying the diagrams carefully, adding the information to what she already knew about blocking. She thought about keeping the book for further study but in the end decided against it and put the book down.

She left Andurs room to delve deeper into the catacombs. As she moved she could not help but notice that when stepping over the finely woven but seemingly decrepit rush mats and carpets dust and dirt would cloud the air near her feet. Some of the woven grasses even appeared to be a bit moldy. 

Her eyes took in the many candles burning low or burnt out and not replaced, and the dried out wreathes of fragrant herbs left unchanged near the large braziers burning low into embers and she frowned. The catacombs in Whiterun bespoke of neglect and in her opinion could be why the dead were walking. She found Andur’s amulet on the table in the lowest chamber of the catacombs, also covered in a thin film of dirt. As she climbed the stairs back to the foyer she fought and slew a third skeleton before making her way out of the catacombs and into the chapel.

“I found your amulet.” Will intoned evenly, holding it up in front of the priest as she walked to where he stood in front of the shrine.

“Oh! Thank Arkay. Please, take this gold for your troubles.” He held out a small pouch of coins with one hand and his other hand expectantly but Will frowned at him.

“I have a message from Arkay.”

“O-oh? Y-you do, huh?” Andurs seemed a bit nervous.

“You have been neglecting your duties, priest. The catacombs are covered in filth and dust, the candles and floral arrangements have been uncleaned and untouched long before the dead rose. The seasons have changed and the rush mats have not and the rugs are also filthy. How can the living come to commune with their beloved dead in a place that is so forgotten and neglected? Do your duty priest and the dead will have no need to come again and remind you.” And with that Will snatched the gold from him and lay the amulet in his hands. The priest had gone pale.

“With this terrible war, I-I’ve been a bit overwhelmed. As are the catacombs.” Will frowned.

“The state of your tombs speak of a longer and deeper neglect than one brought on by the recent war.”

“Of course, you’re right. I will redouble my efforts.” Will smiled on him. “It is all Arkay desires.” Will moved to the shrine and bowed her head.

_ I hope it's alright that I spoke out in your name Arkay _ . A warm light surrounded her with a feeling of approval and Will smiled. As she turned she found Andurs had gotten closer. She stepped back instinctively.

“I beg your pardon?” She snapped, stepping around him.

“You know, I spend so much of my time among the dead I forget how much I miss the living.” His eyes were lingering on the swell of her chest and Will blanched, her mouth parting in surprise. Was- was he hitting on her? Eww. This skeezy old dude, derelict in his one job, thought he was gonna run game on her. She snorted, flipping Andurs a two fingered salute before she booked it out of the catacombs. Gross, she shivered in disgust, her nose curling as she marched her way back to Jorrvaskr.

  
  


Skjor and Aela were at the table eating when Will walked in. Aela smiled at her and Skjor inclined his head.

“So have you spoken to Kodlak yet?” Aela asked. Will shook her head, grabbing a boiled creme treat from the table, tonguing the creme filling from the center and slurping it out. 

“It’s on my agenda for the morning,” she said through a mouthful of creme filling, “though I heard a certain grumpy twin doesn’t think I deserve _ ‘the honor of being a Companion’ _ .” Aela laughed and even Skjor cracked a small smile at Will’s irreverent impersonation of Vilkas.

“Don’t you worry about him. Kodlak will be able to get your true measure.” Aela assured.

“He’s most likely waiting in the Harbingers quarters. All the way at the end of the hall new blood. Best not to keep him waiting any longer.” Skjor’s tone brooked no argument and Will rolled her eyes at him, licking the sticky glaze from the pastry off her fingers.

“Alright, dad. I’m going.” She was slightly miffed that she had not even gotten to sit down but she finished devouring the sweet, sticky treat as she made her way to Kodlak’s quarters. Unsurprisingly, Vilkas was there as well, the two were deep in whispered conversation as Will approached. She knocked lightly on the door frame to let them know she was there, unwilling to cross the threshold without an invite.

“Ah, a stranger comes to our hall.” Will moved toward the man with the rich booming voice that seemed to fill the space. He had twin braids and a silver mane of hair that was well groomed and smoothly flowing into a fine, elegantly maintained beard of silver bristles. Scars from the claws of some beast ran across his cheek beneath his left eye and a whirling tattoo surrounded the right one, both were honed on her, bright with intelligence, appraising her as she stepped toward him.

“Hello. Kodlak, I presume?”

“Indeed, and who am I having the pleasure of addressing?” He asked her, kind, fatherly eyes surrounded by crinkling crows feet smiled at her making her think he already knew who she was, but Will played along, extending her hand in front of her.

“I’m Wilhelmina Jones, most people call me Will. It is an honor to meet you sir.” Kodlak reached up and gripped her forearm in a firm shake of camaraderie.

“And what brings you to our halls, Wilhelmina?” Will grimaced at the use of her full name.

“I would like to join the Companions.” She said boldly, her eyes flickering to Vilkas who had been sitting silently since her entrance.

“Hmmm, let me get a look at you.” He leaned forward and Will had to resist the urge to twirl in a circle in front of him, a cheeky grin blooming over her face at the thought.

“Yes, I see it, a certain strength of spirit.”

“Master! Surely you cannot be thinking of letting her join us? I have heard of her, starting fights without provocation, getting hauled off to jail by the city guards!”

“Without provocation?” Will cried indignantly, “you twat! They were intimidating an old lady, saying the most vile things to her. I did what no one else would! I stood up for the helpless! And you know what, I don’t regret a thing!”

“You see!” Vilkas snarled, gesturing pleadingly toward the Harbinger. “She has little self control and is quick to violence. Surely this is not someone we want joining the Companions?” The harbinger leveled a look at his protege and Vilkas recoiled, abashed.

“Vilkas, I have said before I am no man’s master, but we do have empty beds for those wishing to learn our ways. Wilhelmina may be rash and impetuous but she has heart and that is what matters. I remember a young lad who once had difficulty controlling his own temper and for far less noble reasons than the lass has provided.” Will noted that Vilkas kept his eyes down at this rebuking, not denying it.

“Aye,” He huffed back, “but while it is true that heart is important there is also the matter of the arm.”

“Indeed.” Kodlak stated, stroking his beard as he looked Will over. “What say you Wilhelmina Jones, how are you in battle?” Will shrugged.

“I know I have a lot to learn but I’m no slouch.”

“That’s the spirit! Vilkas will test your arm. If you can handle yourself then I would welcome you to the Companions.” Kodlak’s fatherly voice was so warm and his smile so fierce that Will found herself quite overcome with emotions and could not quite stop the effusive grin that lit up her features as a result of the Harbinger’s approval. She turned to Vilkas and found him staring at her, an odd, almost hungry look in his eye before he abruptly stood and strode from the room. Her eyes followed him as he left and she turned to Kodlak who gestured that she follow Vilkas with a shooing motion. Will delightedly skipped after the sulky twin, falling slightly behind him as he took large fast strides as if he were trying to escape her. 

Even his surliness could not dampen her good mood. She was practically in! Her, Wilhelmina Jones, the foster kid nobody wanted, the preschool teacher who was never really enough, the too soft for this world refugee from Earth was practically a Companion of Ysgramor! 

She felt pride. Pride and wonder as she followed Vilkas into the yard. Farkas and Ria were sitting on the porch. Athis and Njada were leaning in close to each other in a heated debate that stopped as Vilkas and Will strode past. Farkas and Ria were both smiling at her as she grinned over at them and sent them both a rather frenetic thumbs up that only seemed to confuse them.

“Alright, draw your sword and attack me.” Vilkas shot back over his shoulder as he bent to pick up a huge shield. “Don’t worry about hurting me, I can take it.” Will pulled her sword and began swinging at his shield. In the game he only made her swing two or three times. Her smile dimmed as she continued to swing and he continued to block and said nothing.

“Umm, Vilkas,” She asked as she continued to swing, slamming her sword into the shield and repeatedly having it rebuff her attacks, “how long are we going to do this?” 

“As long as it takes.” He answered unhelpfully. So, he was going to make her work to earn her spot then. Ugh. Will decided to see if she could find a way around his guard.

Will swung high and on the left forcing him to raise his shield to block her attack. With his head protected, his face- and therefore his view, was obstructed by the shield. He could not see where she would attack from until he moved the shield again. It gave her a brief window of time to reposition herself and attack from a lower angle. She swung for his legs, an expected and good tactic for anyone to use when facing an opponent with a shield who was guarding the upper part of the body. Vilkas, however, had been able to predict her attack and effectively block her, slightly quicker than she could move. Will grunted in aggravation. And went through a series of swift hard attacks going high repeatedly, forcing him to cover his upper body and effectively blind himself to her attacks, limiting him to predicting her movements based on his experience and her actions. 

Will tried to randomize her hits so he couldn’t predict where she was going. After attacking high and to the right she went to the left twice, then swung low, but somehow he was always able to meet her when she went low. She tried to keep her footfalls silent and quiet her breathing which was growing ragged as he continued to block her. She dodged out of the way as he attempted to bash her with the shield, and noted a large grin plastered across his face. 

He was toying with her. Were they- were they having fun? Will let out a whoop and released a flurry of swings rapidly one after the other before sweeping the leg not with her sword but with her own leg. It may have worked were Vilkas not so experienced, he merely leapt aside and knocked her upside the head with the edge of the shield.

Will went down hard, sprawling gracelessly onto the ground. She may have blacked out for a second. Her head was throbbing and her face felt funny. Vilkas stood there smirking down at her and she smiled back up at him. He was so very, very pretty- especially when he smiled. He lay the shield down and reached an arm out to her.

“That’ll do new blood. But next time, it won’t be so easy.” He pulled her to her feet.

“You thall thap ethy?” She paused, wondering why her head still felt like her ears were stuffed with cotton and her speech was so difficult. He laughed, handing her a health potion. She drank it and almost immediately felt a sharp pressure in her face and heard a popping sound in her ears before she felt like normal.

“You were saying?” He grinned, wolfishly. Will found herself undone by that smile and unconsciously leaned toward him to be closer.

“Ummm… w- what I said was you call that easy? You always knew where I would hit next. How?” Vilkas leaned in close whispering in her ear.

“I’m a wolf, I can smell you in the air. I can hear the shift of your feet on the earth, I can hear the direction of your heartbeat when you swing.” His hot breath caressed her ear and she shivered at the tingling sensation that it sent throughout her entire body, pulling away.

“So you cheated?” She accused playfully, trying to ignore the sensations provoked by the compilation of his smile and his breath on her skin. He shrugged, stepping away.

“I still won. And you’re still a new blood so take this sword to Eorlund up at the Skyforge to be sharpened.” Will gave him a jaunty two fingered salute.

“Aye, aye captain.” She turned on her heel sharply and began walking from the training field on knees that were most certainly not weak with desire. She was ecstatic! She was a Companion! 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I like to do the quests in Whiterun because I love the city, I love the Jarl, I love Jorrvaskr. To me it is my Skyrim home- though I would live in the Elysium Estate I think it is called a mod home that is in my current game but I am pretending that it is not. Problem is, those side quests are not that exciting and turning them into story form I have to interpret the characters through Will's lens. And I hand wave that plain, chunky Will is now uber hot because of training in the hunting grounds for about 9 years worth of non-time but she is a Skyrim Hottie now and when Andurs made that comment it struck me as funny, like he was flirting badly. I researched sword and board fighting by watching a couple videos, found out what rushes were and rush mats and how frequently they would need to be changed and why and finally engaged in indulging my inner psycho by having a power fantasy of beating the crap out of Idolaf and Olfrid Battle-Born. They are horrid in how they treat Frailia and in game I always disarm and punch one of them. Those dicks always pull a knife but then the guards step in and take me to jail and I pay 40 septims. As Will said WORTH IT!  
> I big shout at to all those who leave a comment or kudos, I don't expect it but I do appreciate it and hope you are enjoying my self indulgent exercise.


	10. Chapter 10: Destiny Ascending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will does her first quest for the Companions, reunites with old friends and discovers the remains of Helgen.

Chapter 10

Will was full of energy, much of it the effusive joy of having been made a Companion; but there was also a certain amount of unresolved restlessness and tension that had more to do with her response to Vilkas- with his low rumbling voice and beautiful smirking face, than she was comfortable crediting. She was simultaneously relieved to be away from the powerful presence of the man who attracted her notice in ways she was not entirely used to, and regretful to be leaving; because he was stimulating and pretty and she wasn’t sure but he might kind of like her. 

She rounded the stairway leading up to the Skyforge where she found Eorlund laboring beneath the great wings of a statue to Kynareth- depicted as a bird of prey poised to take flight over a molten forge. He struck metal softened by heat and flame with hammer and Nord strength, emitting a shower of sparks, maintaining a singular focus so deep it required her stepping in close and clearing her throat to gain his attention. She was unprepared for the wide, affectionate grin that split the grizzled old man’s face when he looked up at her. He laid the hammer aside and opened his arms wide, stepping toward her to wrap her in a friendly embrace.

“Oh! O-okay, we can do this!” Will exclaimed, returning the embrace with half hearted enthusiasm.

“Bless you girl! My wife Frailia told me of what you did. Of how you stepped in to defend her, a perfect stranger to you, against the intimidation of those Battle-Born wretches!”

“I only did what should have been done by any decent Nord standing nearby. They were out of line speaking that way to your wife at any time; but particularly in her period of mourning.”

“Aye,” he stated, his brow furrowing in Grey-maned thunder, “never would they have spoken thusly had I or my sons been present. They thought my wife an easy mark for intimidation knowing I was away at the forge and our sons made outlaws in their own homes.”

“That’s what I figured.” Will mused, “when two grown ass men can only talk smack to an elderly woman’s face when she is alone, they only reveal their true colors. Yellow, craven-piss yellow- in case there was any question.” Will’s voice was flat but her expression mirrored the simmering rage she felt when thinking of those Battle-born bullies. Eorlund nodded his agreement.

“So what brings you to the Skyforge this day?” He questioned, taking a drink from a nearby waterskin.

“Oh, Vilkas asked me to bring you his sword.” She held the blade out to him and the blacksmith took it from her, rolling his pale blue eyes and smiling fondly.

“So you're a new-blood huh? Recently joined the Companions?” Will laughed at his tone.

“Yeah, does Vilkas make all the new recruits run errands?”

“Don’t let it bother you, lass, they were all new-bloods once. And don’t always do what you're told either. No one is in charge of anyone else in the Companions.”

“Ah, true punk, no gods, no masters!” Will grinned. Eorlund eyed her in askance.

“Never said that.” She giggled in response.

“I know, it’s a saying where I’m from.” Eorlund shrugged and turned to pick up a shield resting near the forge.

“I do have a favor to ask of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.” Will replied. He held the shield out to her, a marvel of darkened steel with intricate etched runes intersecting what looked like deer skulls with long branching antlers stretching into carved concentric circles, making the armament almost a work of exquisite art and not just a creation meant for war and death.

“Could you run this to Aela? My wife is in mourning, as you know, and were you to do this for me, I could return to her side.”

“I got you bro.” Will smiled, taking the shield out of his hands. “Tell your wife I said hello and tell her not to give up on her son.” Eorlund raised his brow in concern.

“Do you… do you know something?” He could not quite disguise the hope in his voice. Will gave him a serious look and spoke slowly trying to find the right words.

“Not yet. But I am not letting it go either. I need to be sure but I have some suspicions that, unfortunately, can not be backed up by evidence at this time.” 

If events lined up with quests from the game then Eorlund and Frailia’s son was currently imprisoned in Northwatch Keep being tortured by a battalion of lightning wielding, Thalmor battle mages and warriors. Will was certainly in no condition yet to free him. Although she had indeed improved from who she was when she arrived on Nirn, she was not ready to take on that many Thalmor.

As Will returned to Jorrvaskr to carry the shield to Aela her mind spun in circles as she debated what to do. Eorlund and Frailia’s son would need to be rescued as soon as possible. In order to do that she would have to be much stronger if she were to assist with the mission. Since there was no way to speed up training in real time that would mean another extended stay in Hircine’s hunting grounds. While her heart yearned to see Kinnara and Toryli once more, she was uneasy about visiting the hunting grounds at night. She was not a masochist and the idea of dying in Hircine’s realms, no matter how temporary, was not an experience she wished to revisit. She was- to put it bluntly- afraid. Her inner quandary was still unresolved as she knocked on Aela’s door.

“Enter.” Aela called from within, and Will pushed open the door. Aela was standing with Skjor who was appraising Will as if she were a bug, an unworthy bug. She squirmed under his regard even as she turned her attention to Aela holding up her shield.

“Eorlund asked that I bring this to you.” Will said, holding the shield up.

“Ah, good. I’ve been waiting for this. I’m so glad Kodlak saw what I saw in you when first we met.” Her eyes were shining with pleasure, and her smile was genuine, eliciting a small grateful smile of her own from Will.

“He’s allowed me to join, says I have heart.”

“I saw you in the yard, training with Vilkas.” Skjor stated, his mocking tone letting her know exactly what he thought of her skills. Will felt herself flush with embarrassment. Aela’s voice took on an amused lilt.

“I heard he gave you quite the thrashing.” Will laughed in response.

“Yeah, he easily kicked my ass. Just goes to show I have a lot to learn.” Her chin came up and she locked defiant eyes with Skjor. He snorted.

“You did show a small measure of skill.” He acknowledged.

“Have you made yourself at home here?” Aela asked.

“Not yet, I haven’t even seen where I’ll be bunking.”

“We can fix that, it's the same room you’ve been recovering in.” Aela stated before bellowing loud enough to be heard all the way to the cloud district. “Farkas, come show the new-blood where she’ll be sleeping!” A few seconds later Farkas came stumbling, bleary-eyed to Aela’s door.

“Did you have to wake me?” Farkas snarled. “Oh,” he stated, straightening up when he saw Will, “Uh, hi.”

“Well, Ice-brain if you slept at night instead of spending your evenings in the tavern drinking and chasing everything in a skirt, then you would not be so tired during the day.” Aela intoned, her voice laden with false sweetness, “but I assumed you would like to show the new-blood where she will be sleeping.”

“Sure,” Farkas rumbled, gesturing for Will to follow him. “This way new blood.” Will fell into step beside him. “I think you’ll like it here.” He said softly, “I’m glad you decided to join up, it gets boring around here sometimes and having a new face can help shake things up a bit. After what you did for my brother I am hoping we keep you. This can be a rough life.” He led her to the sleeping barracks where many of the lower tier Companions slept and gestured for her to step in. Will did so, her hand blushing his chest as she slid past him, walking toward the bed where her things were waiting.

“So, is this to be my permanent bunk then?” She asked.

“Aye.” He stated. “Tilma will keep the place clean, she always has. If you need work, come to me or Aela, if you’re hungry there’s food set up in the main hall. We try to eat together around six bells.”

“Thanks Farkas, I look forward to proving myself and working beside you.” Farkas stretched and yawned, nodding and smiling at her before returning to his room. Will sat down on her bed and grinned. She was thrilled to have a place to call hers and not have to worry about renting a room in the inn any longer.

As she left her room she caught Aela heading upstairs and thought it would be prudent to update someone on her plans.

“Aela, hold up a minute.” Will called, strapping her sword to her side as she went. “I’m heading over to Riverwood, then Helgen, so I may be gone a couple days. Got any jobs for me out that way that I could do?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. We just got word from Jarl Balgruf. It seems a predator has taken up residence in Riverwood, terrorizing some of the locals. They need someone to take it out for them.”

“I can take care of that.” Will answered, looking pleased. Aela clasped her shoulder in approval.

“I knew we could count on you. Be cautious. Beasts are not nearly as predictable as men. Give it a quick death, sister.” Will was taken aback and felt a tightness in her chest at the moniker Aela used, so she could only nod through her emotions. Aela shot her a quizzical glance but departed, leaving Will to finish gearing up and preparing for her journey.

“New-blood, wait a minute.” It was Vilkas, trotting across the yard to pace alongside her. Will glanced at him in askance but slowed her pace until he was beside her.

“What’s up Vilkas?” Will asked.

“I- what?” Vilkas looked up at the sky in confusion. “Nothing out of the ordinary, what kind of question is that?” He seemed aggravated and Will had to bite back a surprised laugh.

“It’s something people say where I’m from, it means how are you and what can I do for you?”

“Then why not just say that.” Vilkas grumbled as they headed toward the city gates. Will just narrowed her eyes and squinted over at him, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I would like to accompany you to Riverwood.” Will drew in a startled breath but could not quite hold back the grin that escaped.

“I’d like that. But why?” Will asked as they headed up the cobbled path to the Drunken Huntsman.

“You’re new, but the Companions encourage their members to travel in pairs. The roads can be deadly and you can’t always predict the danger. Having someone watch your back is just smart.” Vilkas eyed Will to see if she bought his explanation. In reality Skjor had pretty much demanded a member of the circle either tail her or be with her until it could be determined if she was a danger to them and their secret or not, and since she had saved his life Skjor felt Vilkas should be charged with that duty. He had barely had time to grab his broadsword when Aela informed him of Will’s plans. Will however couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment she felt at his explanation. She had half hoped the handsome Companion wanted to spend time with her.

“Well, if that’s all, I’m going to get Jenassa so you needn’t worry.” She pushed open the door to the shop. Vilkas followed closely behind her. 

“I’d still like to tag along. You’re new to the Companions and I’d like to get a feel for your skills, see what kind of jobs would suit you best.”

“Oh. Alright then.” Will looked around the smoky shop and frowned. Jenassa was nowhere to be found.

“Excuse me, miss?” Will looked over to the counter and scooted closer to the shopkeeper.

“Elrond?” Will asked, startling a small grin from the mer.

“Elrindir, my lady.” He quipped. Will blushed, of course he wasn’t named after the Lord of the Rings character, she just remembered it was similar and without thinking blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Well met. The name’s Will, can I help you?”

“I have a message for you from Jenassa.” He handed her a small slip of paper.

_ Will- _

_ I’ve been hired on an escort job to Solitude. It is an easy job and so easy money. Sorry I won’t be there to go with you to Riverwood. I still look forward to traveling some more with you. _

_ Your friend _

_ Jenassa _

Will found herself smiling at the note.

“Well Vilkas looks like the two of us are on our own, Jenassa got a job and she’s left Whiterun for Solitude.”

“I’m crushed.” Vilkas intoned flatly. Will threw back her head and laughed, grabbing him by the arm.

“Alright Grumpy, lets go.” Vilkas allowed the woman to take him by the arm and lead him from the city, it had been a while since he had allowed anyone to touch him so freely and he found he rather liked it when she did. He tried quelling the pleasure of his beast who also liked it, ignoring it, as he usually did.

  
  


They left the road to Whiterun behind them, reversing Will’s original course from her initial trip to the seat of economic prosperity in Skyrim, bypassing the farms and flocks and traveling once more through multiple towering pines and multi-colored blossoms. Nature flourished on their path and not only the flowering kind, beasts on four legs darted across the trail in irregular intervals, journeying alongside them and even engaging them in pitched battle. Rabbits, fox, wolves, great elk with their massive antlers and the smaller does were spotted and remarked upon as they made their way back to Riverwood.

At first Vilkas tried to maintain a stoic and stony facade, silent and watchful; but Will, full of the nervous energy that came with being in the presence of a live crush, peppered the man with questions, asking him about his childhood, his relationship with Farkas and the Companions and tips on different battle tactics. It was not until she questioned him about his hunting prowess that Will was able to see how deep his passions ran. 

Vilkas waxed poetic about the different tactics one would use to lure a troll from its lair depending on its species- was it a cave troll or frost troll? He sounded positively lyrical as he rhapsodized on and on about the best way to kill a minotaur or take down a rogue giant gone mad. Will learned that master of arms was not just a title in the Companions. Vilkas was a master with nearly every weapon in Skyrim. He preferred the broadsword because he loved achieving victory in the first three swings. The sheer power of the blade wielded by a hand that knows and understands it’s capabilities appealed to him like no other weapon. That being said he could handle a bow better than Aela and even Skjor had a hard time fighting him with a sword and board and achieving victory. Will began to understand why this son of Skyrim meant so much to Hircine and why his loss was a wound the Daedric prince would not quickly forget.

Vilkas found himself enjoying his time on the road with Will. He could not stop smiling. Every time he drew closer to her, her heartbeat sped up, the air around her had a slight electrical charge he could sense, and he could smell both her arousal and her surprising affection. He was beyond flattered by her response to him. He found himself gesturing animatedly at bits of fauna in the woods that would bring him in close to her just to make her react. At one point he leaned in close to her ear and in a low pitched voice explained the difference in hunting techniques for trolls and he felt her full body shiver which caused a spiraling heat in the pit of his own belly to answer her in kind. He had to draw back for a time as he wrestled for more control. 

Normally his beast and his man spirit were in conflict but in this they seemed attuned, in spite of his reluctance to embrace anything the wolf wanted, Vilkas found himself delighting in the girl's honest attraction to him. She was trying so hard to maintain her distance, to be nonchalant, but there was no fooling his wolf senses and he did delight in making her blush. As time passed and distance grew between Jorrvaskr and them Vilkas found himself speaking of the joys of hunting, the endless cycle of days, on the trail of an illusive beast, pitting his wits and skills against the perils of the land. He was surprised to learn Will had an uncommonly acute knowledge of tracking and the many uses of the flora of Skyrim. She did not give up much about her past, but for all other topics she seemed quite open and showed no sign of dishonesty.

It was a few hours later that they strolled into Riverwood but the hours were spent pleasantly and Vilkas was pleased with this new Companion.

“Will!” A fair haired elven archer called out, a bright smile on his face.

“Faendal!” Will called back waving madly, a wide grin animating her face, causing her eyes to sparkle. Vilkas slid his eyes to the elf before returning them to her face, reading her body language as she made introductions.

“Vilkas this is Faendal, a Bosmeri archer and resident lumberjack.” She began laughing as she recounted their first meeting, Faendal interjecting when appropriate.

“There I was minding my own business when an ax flew from the sky to land on the earth not three feet from where I was standing!” Faendal exclaimed indignantly, though also clearly struggling to hide his mirth.

“He showed me how to chop wood correctly so I could earn the funds to stay in the local inn. Faendal, this is Vilkas of the Companions of Ysgramor.” Vilkas felt his chest swell in response to the pride in Will’s voice as she introduced him to the elf. He extended an arm and the Bosmer clasped it in friendship.

“Well met Faendal. Will is training to join the Companions, any friend of hers is a friend of mine.” 

The elf let out a whooping cackle, “well if that don’t beat all, wait ‘till Orgnar hears about this! I can hardly believe it!” Will lifted her chin and stuck out her chest with no small amount of pride of her own.

“Kodlak says I have heart, though I know I’ve a lot to learn. We actually came here, in part, on Companion business.” The two followed Faendal into the tavern. He snorted, holding the door for the two travelers.

“Let me guess, is this about that wolf over at Sven’s.”

“Probably.” Will answered.

“Will!” Orgnar shouted joyfully as they entered the Sleeping Giant. He barreled to her side and lifted her from the ground sweeping her into a hug and twirling her around. Will laughed gleefully, returning the bear of a man’s embrace with equal delight.

“Orgnar! It’s so good to see you!”

“I’m so glad you’re alright, I was worried after you left.” He said putting her down. “Strange rumors have been traveling down from the mountains. Helgen endured some kind of attack.” Will’s face darkened at the news.

“I made it to Whiterun okay. Turns out my previous skills had no value in that city either, though as beautiful is the city is I found many of its occupants cold and bereft of human compassion.” Orgnar nodded in agreement.

“Life is hard in Skyrim. Too often our need for survival drives out thoughts of others. When the world seems to turn to madness the first thing many of us do is turn inward. I’ve seen it before during the Great War with the Dominion. I left the big cities of Cyrodil to get away from that kind of attitude. I came to Skyrim to settle in a land where the people were fierce and their hearts even fiercer. It was not everything I thought it would be but Riverwood is home to me now. I like to think, in this place at least, the hearts are a bit warmer.”

Will squeezed his hand at that, “if nothing else, your heart, at least, is warmer.” Orgnar found himself flushing even as he returned the affectionate squeeze.

“So what brings you back to Riverwood, and with a Companion no less.” Orgnar eyed Vilkas’ wolf armor in appreciation. Will drew herself up, unconsciously puffing out her chest with pride, causing all three men to smile at her.

“I’m actually here on official Companion business. I heard there was a problem with a beast in someone’s house?”

“About time!” Snapped a voice of an aggrieved Sven from across the inn. He made his way toward them in four long strides. “That rabid wolf almost killed my mother! I sent for help days ago, why are you only arriving now?” Will glared up at the angry bard. She never had liked Sven very much.

“The Companions are in demand across Skyrim. Someone was sent when they were available. My question is why would a strong, young Nord like yourself need help felling a wolf? Are you some kind of milk drinker?” Will could not help the slightly mocking jeer that slipped into her voice. Faendal snickered. Sven sputtered a red faced insult at her to which she merely arched a brow in response.

“Now lass, leave the boy alone.” Vilkas chided, “the Companions go where they are needed. Wherever someone in Skyrim doesn’t feel up to defending their own honor we’ll take up their burden. Lets take care of this one’s problem so we can get paid.” Vilkas’ voice was calm and reasonable even if he did agree with Will’s opinion. It really was embarrassing that a simple wolf could not be taken down by any true Nord. It perhaps spoke of the lack of regard for this Sven that no one else in town had offered to assist him with this problem.

Sven led the pair from the inn to his home. “I warn you both, the beast is fierce, when I open the door it will no doubt attack.”

“Let it come. I am not afraid!” Will stated fiercely, tapping her sword lightly against her buckler, the blade raised and ready to fight. Sven was correct, the beast was rabid, crazed eyes and frothing mouth charged her with fanged ferocity, impaling itself on her blade even as she smacked its head to the side with her buckler, using the smaller shield to deflect its teeth from her wrist. She withdrew her now bloodied blade from the prone body of the fallen wolf, looking up at Vilkas in question.

“Why do you think it would come to the village?” She asked, “normally wild animals steer clear of human settlements.”

“It’s the water sickness,” he responded. “No one knows what causes it but sometimes beasts in the wild become infected with a kind of crazed madness that also causes them to fear the water. As the sickness progresses they tend to attack anything that moves, losing all caution and fear. Many that are bit by such beasts can also become infected and die from the madness unless they take a cure disease potion or receive divine healing at a temple or shrine.” Will shivered, brow furrowing.

“Rabies.” She whispered.

“Hmm?” Vilkas asked, not understanding the word.

“The disease is called rabies where I am from, it’s a disease that travels from the infected animal in their saliva.” Vilkas considered that before nodding in agreement.

“Aye, it sounds the same.” 

Will allowed Vilkas to accept payment from Sven as she caught up with Orgnar and Faendal. Both congratulated her on her good fortune and were pleased she had returned to let them know of her fate. Orgnar was especially affectionate, paying for a round of drinks in spite of the way Delphine kept giving him the stink-eye. Will asked Orgnar about the news from the mountain and Helgen.

“It was very strange, a couple of lads originally from Riverwood turned up the other day. Both described Helgen as being attacked by a dragon, of all things!” Orgnar laughed nervously,” would you believe it?” Will glared at her tankard.

“I would.” She growled. “I had hoped I would have more time.” She whispered softly, before shrugging and chugging her ale, wiping her face with the back of her arm. “Regardless, we will need a room- rooms for the night.” She said gesturing between herself and Vilkas.

“Aye, about that lass, we just got the one bed.” Will giggled at his abashed look, glancing over at Vilkas who eyed her with a lazy smile. Will blushed but couldn’t resist goading the Companion.

“S’okay, I’ll just sleep on top of him.” Orgnar’s mouth dropped but Vilkas just rolled his eyes.

“You’d likely pass out from embarrassment if I took you up on that offer and you know it.” he challenged in wry amusement. Her eyes widened.

“How can you know me so well so fast?” She asked in mock awe. She might have squeaked when he gave her a sweetly affectionate smile and tweaked her on the nose with a thick and callused finger.

“You’re easy to read. You’ve got no guile.” Will found herself smiling warmly at his compliment. It was decided that Vilkas would simply stay up in the main room, maybe nap in one of the chairs, but he assured her with a very deliberate look that he would not need much sleep and when he was ready for it, would only need a couple hours. Will got his promise to wake her and she would gladly vacate the bed so he could get a few hours of decent shut-eye before turning in herself. 

  
  


They couldn’t even see the city before they could smell the smoke and see and feel the ash drifting over them in the wind. Will found herself gazing in revolted fascination as wisps of the gray and white matter clung to her armor. She tried brushing it off but it seemed to stick to the material. Vilkas kept his face a grim, flat expression of cautionary menace, his sword at the ready since before they left the standing stones. Will followed behind, her own sword and shield in the ready position. The air was desolate, silent, unnaturally so. The birds that had trilled and chirped with joyful abandon in the lowlands near Riverwood were conspicuously absent. The biggest difference though, was the silence of the insect songs. When first arriving in Skyrim Will had found the incessant screaming of the cicadas and buzzing of the flies and other insects annoying, a constant quiet- but not quiet enough- wailing of acute alien misery blanketing every place where the woods thickened and the underbrush formed its own set of biomes. She had gradually gotten used to the sound which made its current absence even more eerie than it’s presence when she first arrived in Nirn.

Will was spooked. She looked forward to actually seeing a dragon with equal parts longing wonder and terror. She tried to mask her fear of course, she internalized a rousing pep-talk where she assured herself that the divines had put her here for this purpose. She was even on her way to becoming an honored Companion. She had been taught the skills she would need to fight and survive and Vilkas was at her front because yes, even though coming here had been her idea, her growing fear had her letting him take the lead. 

Vilkas had given her a frank look before taking his position at the front, she did not understand what it meant, but her burgeoning unease didn’t allow her to linger long in thought on the matter as she focused on what she could see, hear, smell, and yes- even taste in the wind as they approached Helgen from the path leading to the village proper. Will managed to master her fear however, following bravely in Vilkas’ valorous shadow until the faintest hint of pork barbecue on the wind hit her nostrils.

Suddenly she was on the ground retching up breakfast and some of the previous evening's dinner. She was quietly sobbing as she vomited, trying to spray the foul smelling, stomach churning contents away from her boots. Her entire body was trembling. She wretched some more, expelling more previously consumed effluvia as Vilkas solicitously pulled back her hair, holding it away from her face and rubbed her back in soothing motions. 

It was all she could do to stay on her feet. Images of the charred remains of the merchant caravan and their wagons left sprawled in the wooded clearing flashed in her mind, to be painted with imagined similar horrors awaiting her up the hill and in the city of Helgen- which by this point she knew would be a smoldering ruin fallen to dragon-fire and destruction.

“Easy there new-blood.” Vilkas soothed as she struggled to regain control. Failing as she retched and heaved into the dirt once more.The smell of pork continued to cause her stomach to rumble it’s displeasure but upon taking deep breaths along with the soothing elements of Vilkas’ honeyed voice and warming touch Will was able to eventually stand up straight on her wobbling knees.

“God damned sonuvabitch! You’d think I’d have learned by now to always carry a handkerchief on me. Seems I’ve done nothing but cry and snot and shake in terror since I got here!” Her voice was shaking, watery as she attempted to make light her visible trauma. Vilkas frowned, his eyes piercing the sham of her false humor.

“Stop that!” He ordered angrily even as he handed her a large unused hanky, which she gratefully accepted to clean her face. Eying him warily at his tone even as she honked noisily into the proffered material. 

“It’s obvious to me you have some sense of what we are heading into. If I’m not mistaken you’ve encountered a similar scene before. There is no shame in being so moved by such circumstances as those I too am sure we will find ‘ere we keep moving. You are stronger than you think. We are the Companions of Ysgramor. It is the legacy of he and his five hundred Companions we honor with our acts and deeds. The honor of our people lies in our blood. The safety of countless innocent lives could depend on what information we can gather up ahead. Own your fear. Acknowledge that you are not alright with what has happened here. Then master yourself and keep moving forward, that is what it means to be a Companion.” Will could hear the note of challenge in his voice and though there were a slew of other and perhaps even more pressing reasons to heed his words, to rise up, and move forward, it was nevertheless  _ his _ words that got her moving.

Helgen was a charred and burning wasteland. Formerly wheat colored thatch and golden beams of pine wood once belonging to the homes and buildings still burned, now orange with embers, yellowed with flame and blackened with soot and ash. The fire had apparently started days ago, and for it to still burn so large and bright and hot, was a testament to the primal power of dragon flame. 

Unlike the game, there was no dragon roaring to the sky and lifting off to take flight as she and Vilkas approached the burning remains of the once proud city. Only the destruction greeted them, as they entered through wooden gates scorched and falling from melted hinges. 

Once through the gates bodies were quite literally piled up in the streets, many of the citizens having attempted to crawl over their dead or dying in an effort to escape the beast that had caused this. It was a mass of flesh and tissue, meat grilling in the sun, fused with leather and metal of armor and weapon, and so they pushed on. 

Some of the bodies you could tell were soldiers. Some were even Stormcloaks. The amalgamation of leather and cloth to melted flesh gave hints of origin if not identity, with wisps of red and blue defying the carnage to entrap the eye as she walked; a tiny delicate defiance against the uncaring universe that had stolen the life of the men and women who had once donned those colors to denote allegiances.

In several places both she and Vilkas found the way forward blocked by impenetrable rubble, still aflame, and were forced to shift directions. It was a small cobbled side path leading to what may have once been an imperial training area, if the archery targets and training dummies were any indication of the former use of the yard, that Will found what she was no doubt meant to find all along. A small leather bound journal next to the ashen outline of some poor soul’s remains now turned to dust. They disintegrated, to be swept away by the breeze even as she reached down to pick up the book.

“Is that the mark of Hircine?” Vilkas snapped, trying to snatch the book from her hands. Will deftly side-stepped, growling at him to wait. He froze in surprise. Will ignored him and with trembling fingers opened the book to the first page.

_ Greetings Dovahkiin and fair daughter of the hunt _

_ Your destiny is at hand. The entire world is yours and we are all counting on you to heed the call and save us all. _

There was no signature but in her heart Will knew it was from her chosen Daedric prince, Hircine; the emblem on the front of the book proclaimed as much.

“What does this mean?” Vilkas growled softly, after reading the message.

“It means we are all in trouble.” She hugged herself tightly, trying to still her trembling as the weight of a destiny she was in no way strong enough to fulfill was laid over her shoulders. She shot her tormented gaze at Vilkas, locking eyes with the great Nord, her shield brother. “Please,” She whispered, her voice a trembling exhalation of fear and hope, “I need to be stronger. Please help me get stronger so that I can do what I have been sent to do and succeed.”

Vilkas broke eye contact to reread the message in the text, his brows furrowing in skeptical suspicion, he inhaled deeply and stepped closer to her.

“You’re afraid.” He muttered in confusion, “but not of me. Do you believe this was meant for you? That you are the Dovahkiin mentioned in this journal?” Will nodded. Vilkas frowned but drew her into his arms. “Fear not little one. We will explore the truth of this and determine if it truly applies to you. If you are indeed the Dovahkiin we will help you grow into your strength.” Vilkas withdrew looking around before giving voice to the thought that had been bugging him since Riverwood. “You said yesterday you hoped there would be more time.”

“Caught that, did you?” She smiled wanly.

“You seemed to have an idea of what we would find here, I could sense your nervousness increasing the closer we came.”

Will mutely nodded.

“So would I be correct in assuming,” and here he gestured hesitantly to the destruction surrounding them, “all this was caused by…” And here he trailed off, for though he had his suspicions, the barkeep had already alluded to the truth of the matter but even so, the thought was so ludicrous that he felt he could not even lend voice to it. 

Will finished his thought for him.

“A dragon. Alduin has returned and it’s my job to stop him.”

“By the nine!” Vilkas hissed.

“No shit.” Will flatly responded. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a while to finish. I care for my mom who has dementia and had to help my brother this week by being his wheels as he gets his license in order. Between the occupational therapists, physical therapists, and all the running around town since everything seems to be an hour away from where I live getting downtime to write was hard especially since I am so exhausted I wanted to sleep. I am not quite happy with how it turned out but I wrote it, went through editing it in scrivener first then google docs before posting it here. You watch I'm going to post it and then see like 10 errors I didn't catch. But the chapter does move us forward to the beginning of Will's destiny and I am almost caught up to her playthru. We are moving forward. I hope you enjoyed. Updates may still be sporadic, school starts up again and I am terrified because I live in Florida and Corona virus and kindergartners and mom with every single underlying condition that makes her a prime candidate for dying if she gets it from me. But I am enjoying the escapism of my Will and her developing relationship with Vilkas so I have no intention of abandoning this story anytime soon. As always thank you to anyone and everyone who reads it and actually likes it.


	11. Chapter 11:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times? A friendship is strengthened a trip up a cold path, a surprise stop with a necromancer that I was not intending because quite honestly I forgot I had this mod.

His eyes burned with silver embers as he studied her, their gazes locked together as Vilkas trailed the back of his fingers along her jawline. Vilkas was always intensely focused on everything he did, whether it was training in the yard at Jorrvaskr, keeping watch on the trail even as he conversed with her, or touching her as he was now, making her body sing and thrum with need. He leaned in, close to her throat, inhaling the scent of her. Will shivered in desire at the feel of his scruff against her skin, his hot breath dancing on her neck. His hand blazed a path down her throat and over her clavicle as she lay bare before him, aching, wanting. His hands were slow as they leisurely traced the contours of her breasts, gently hefting them in his palms, his piercing eyes shadowing the paths his palms burned across her skin running a rough calloused thumb across her nipples- now taut and full of the sweet, sweet, aching itch of want. She moaned, a small, mewling exhalation of pleasure and he smiled knowingly, his intense eyes never breaking contact with her body.

He rose up, to tease her lips his gentle breath the unfulfilled promise of a kiss and she lifted her face in supplication. He smiled, a wicked slash of lust across his face that caused the aching heat inside her to throb anew and he dragged his nails down her sides. She arched up, off the bedroll, breathing in his scent, wild as the plains, piny as the woodlands, musky as the loam of earth and soil; he was earth and freedom and untamed majesty and as his breath fanned over her cheek and her eyes drank him in, devouring his intensity with unrestrained gluttony, the burgeoning heat in his eyes as he seemed to etch her reaction to him into his memory sent a spooling, throbbing heat to fill her. Her thighs parted in invitation and he finally tore his gaze from her face as his lips found her skin to follow the path of his hands.

“Please!” She whispered, unsure of what exactly she was pleading for only achingly aware that she simply could not bear it were he to stop. His tongue rolled and danced over one throbbing nipple and she gasped, pressing up into his mouth. He kissed the underside of each full moon of flesh then dragged his teeth down her stomach, over her navel.

“Oh. Yes!” she murmured, delirious with pleasure, a mindless creature of want and sensation. Logic, reason, coherence had no shelter here. She was sensation, pure and carnal.

“Wilhelmina.” He whispered between her legs, her name a husky song on his lips that she answered with the prayer that was his.

“Vilkas!”

“Will!”

Will’s eyes flew open and she frowned, groaning in petulant frustration.

“Whudoyaneed” She asked blearily rubbing the sleep from her eyes and sitting up from the bed. Vilkas was a bit closer than she expected as she sat up, her body pulsing with arousal she desperately tried to ignore. Just as in her dream his eyes were intense and focused on her and she found herself falling into their depths. His nostrils were flared and his lips curled in displeasure, though his voice was low and rumbling, containing a hint of frustration. It was the rumbling timbre though that called out to her and got the shuddering response of her body in quaking answer.

“Tis time to rise. Need demands we return to Whiterun to inform the Jarl of the dragon attack in Helgen.”

“Yeah, ok, but we need to make a side trip to Bleak falls Barrow first.” She answered rising and stretching, Vilkas stepped back from her but not before she noted the interest in his face as he studied her form in the grey t-shirt. Maybe he was not as unaffected by her as he seemed. If so why then did he not make the first move? Will had been burned before, by men who were not as into her as she was to them, by adults she wanted to become her family and even by other fosters who used her to get what they needed. She yearned to put herself out there, to reach for what she wanted, to take life, Vilkas, with both hands, but the crippling fear of rejection stopped her from proceeding without explicit invitation. She suspected he was not completely disinterested but so far he had not made a move on her or said or done anything that indicated he wanted to be more than friends. And quite frankly, Will did not trust her own instincts when it came to romance, or even friendship to be honest. History had taught her many a cruel lesson but she had learned them well, internalized the pain and reforged herself to be stronger.

“You should bathe before you change.” He stated flatly. Will sat up straight at that, her mouth forming a moue of indignation, but she said nothing, it _had_ been two days since her last bath.

“You don’t smell so great yourself, big guy.” She shot back with a sardonic grin. He ignored her, stepping from the room. She frowned, What exactly was his problem? She gathered her belongings and headed to the bathing chamber in the Sleeping Giant Inn. A hot bath was just the thing she needed to wake her up and maybe help her divest herself of the tension brought on by one of the most erotic dreams she had experienced in a long while. A soft grin curled across her face as she briefly indulged in a final, gentle, reminisce before the details began to fade and blur and only the echo of unrequited want remained. 

Vilkas hadn’t slept much the night before, he rarely did as the beast inside him kept him ever vigilant. He’d decided he could probably sleep for a couple hours right before sunrise and had gone to wake Will up when the perfume of her arousal greeted him as he stepped through the door of the tiny room they shared. The scent went straight to his cock, his beast excited and himself curiously startled but not averse to the sensation she roused in him. His only intent had been to wake her but instead he sat heavily in the chair next to the bed reveling in the scent of her need and simultaneously struggling to control the evidence of his own response. She did not move much in her sleep. The tang of her desire thickened and he shifted in discomfort, He would have to wake her or leave himself. Then she whispered his name and his vision went white. She was dreaming of him! His name was so soft, a mere half whisper of air, but his beast senses heard. He stood too fast kicking the chair over but managing to catch it before it clattered to the floor. His beast wanted her too much and he was not without his own longings. But Hircine, he had learned, offered no boon without cost and if his wolf wanted her so strongly it only strengthened the caution he felt while a man in full control of his faculties. And still too, there were far too many unanswered questions surrounding her. She moaned. He flushed in shame at his body's reaction. This wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be here while she smelled like this, whispering his name to the darkness.

Living with the beast blood had taken some getting used to. Back when everything was new the scents and sounds had been overwhelming at first, but Kodlak and Skjor had helped him learn to control his heightened senses, using them to powerful effect. One thing Kodlak had imprinted on him and his brother was that the beast blood allowed them certain private knowledge about others, the scent of fear, arousal, rage, a lie. He had been taught that though he had a higher ability to discern the truth of peoples intent it was important that he not use such knowledge to manipulate others or to expose their secrets. People had a right to their privacy and unless he was using his gifts in battle he must respect that people would lie about their motivations, would hide their fear or arousal, or anger. It was why he did not speak of her response to him, though it drove him mad. 

His own responses were at war within himself. He wanted her. Painfully so. But he was not quite sure if it was him or the influence of the beast that urged him on, so he had decided to wait, to learn who she was before pursuing her. The beast within was an animal, a demon of daedric origin, a poison he would rid himself of were it possible. Its intentions and desires were not to be appeased without careful consideration. But her scent, his name on her lips. She tempted him mightily. And he found himself resenting her slightly for that, though logically he understood it was not her fault he was so messed up about his own yearnings. Would that he could approach her, pursue her as just a man. She sighed again. He leaned down, scenting her involuntarily.

“Willhelmina.” He rumbled next to her ear. A gratifying spike in arousal and heart rate was her response as she half awoke to his whispered call. His name was returned in a voice thick with sleepy desire that tested his restraint and he gritted his teeth, snapping more harshly, “Will!”

She awoke with a start, the smell of her need fading and he could not tell if he was relieved or disappointed. It did not disappear and that was frustrating. He snapped at her to bathe, hoping she would wash the smell and thus the temptation from her body. She sat up and his eyes hungrily devoured the way she looked in the strange thin shirt she wore to bed. He almost swallowed his tongue as he inadvertently got a glimpse of her taut nipples poking through the thin material. He was not sure what excuse he made but he was out the door and striding out of the tavern to the river running through town. He made short work of divesting himself of his armor, clad only in his smalls as the sun just barely began it’s rise over the horizon and he dived into the cold waters of the White River. The bracing shock of cold did much to dispel the fire racing through his blood.

Will did as he asked bathing and changing and frowning the entire time she did so. What had she done? Why was he so angry? He still had not returned as she grabbed a bite to eat from Orgnar so she sat next to Faendal, greeting him warmly with a friendly smile.

“Sooo,” She began, munching on a bowl of savory venison and mush, “I hear you’re sweet on a girl here.” Faendal choked on his ale shooting her a flustered look.

“Aye.” Was all he said. Will smiled, slyly.

“What if I told you I knew a way you could win her heart, knocking that peacock Sven out of the running?” Faendal was silent but his eyes indicated his interest so Will continued.

“I know where you can find the Golden claw that was stolen. If you like, you can come with Vilkas and I to retrieve it and I would be perfectly willing to let you take the credit for finding it.”

“Why would you be willing to do that for me?” Faendal questioned suspiciously.

“Because you’re a much better man than Sven and I like you better than him.” Faendal threw back his head and laughed.

“Alright, I’ll take the bait. Tell me what you know.”

“Well, that golden claw is a key that unlocks an impassable door in Bleak Falls Barrow. The thieves have no clue of its true purpose, they think it's to guard treasure. What it actually guards is a word of power carved into an ancient stone in the dragon’s tongue and guarded by a draugr death lord or something.” Faendal’s mouth dropped.

“And just how do you know all this?” He sputtered, incredulous.

“The same way I know you and Sven both want to court Camilla Valerius and are both willing to do whatever it takes to discredit the other in her eyes.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Faendal bit out. Will just rolled her eyes.

“Really? Then just what are you going to do when Sven woos her with his bardic skill, seducing her with honeyed words?” Faendal’s hand slowly found its way to his pocket as he looked away and Will smirked. “Let me guess; in your pocket is a note you want Camilla to think is from Sven.” The blood drained from Faendal’s face.

“How did you-” Will wasn’t smiling anymore she was glaring.

“Sven has a letter of his own you jerk. You are both so busy trying to manipulate Camilla into choosing one of you that you completely ignore Camilla’s right to choose and both seem perfectly content with deceiving her if it gets you what you want. It’s disgusting!” Faendal had the decency to at least look ashamed.

“I’m a wood elf living in a land that is populated by people that think I have no right to be here even if I have lived here longer than many of them have been alive. Camilla sees past my ears and my forehead. She has a good head on her shoulders and I… I care about her.” He uttered the last bit so softly Will had to lean forward to hear him.

“Good. Glad to hear it. Now let me see that letter.” Faendal handed it to Will and she smiled at him before tossing it into the fire. “You’re a good man Faendal. Now you can win Camilla’s heart honestly.”

“But what about Sven? You said he had a similar idea. If he passes Camilla a note and claims I wrote it- if it’s anywhere near as awful as mine was about him, she’ll want nothing more to do with me.” Will patted him on the back.

“No worries bro, I got you. Hold up here, I’ll be back in a few.” Faendal stared at her stupidly as she slipped from the tavern. Will spoke in the strangest manner. He finished his breakfast and waited. He ordered a second ale and waited some more. He was nearly ready to give up when Will slipped back inside. Her face illuminated with a huge smug grin.

“Camilla won’t be speaking with Sven for a while.”

“Why not?” Faendal asked.

“Because after persuading that douchecanoe that Camilla and you had a blossoming romance he asked me to deliver his hate mail to the lady in question and say it was from you. I just told Camilla the truth that it was from Sven. He looks at me like he wants to kill me but I didn’t lie to the lady so it’s his own fault. So what say you? Wanna go all heroic for the lady, win her affections through feats of daring do?”

“What?” Faendal questioned, not quite able to follow.

“Come with me to Bleak Falls Barrow and get the golden claw back. Camilla will be over the moon and me and Vilkas will have one more warrior in the party.” Faendal didn’t even have to think about it. If he returned the missing claw to Camilla and her brother he could court her openly, having proven his worth to both her and her brother.

“When do we leave?” He asked.

“As soon as Vilkas gets back.” She answered just as Vilkas opened the door, letting golden sunlight issue into the tavern's main room, silhouetting his masculine frame in a gloriole of golden light. Will’s eyes devoured him, he truly was one of the prettiest men she had ever seen. As he stepped toward her he rolled his eyes and Will quickly looked away. She seriously had to get herself under control. As much as she liked him, was interested in him, Vilkas had given no sign that he was interested in her as anything more than a shield sister. Will plastered a smile onto her face to hide her discouraged musings, taking in the way his hair was plastered to his shoulders in damp, curling tendrils and beads of water dripped down his neck.

“Did you bathe in the river?” She asked confusedly.

“Aye.” Was his short, clipped response. Will fidgeted uncomfortably, wondering yet again what she had done to upset him.

“Vilkas, Faendal is interested in coming with us to clear Bleak Falls Barrow. It will be full of draugr and bandits so I assured him we could use his assistance.” Will’s voice was soft, her eyes fluttering away from the large man to focus on the ground in front of him. Vilkas grunted.

“Good. He can accompany you. I’m going to head back to Whiterun. You can fill me in on the results of your excursion and what it means to your… condition, when you return.” Will’s eyes shot to his, hurt and disappointment painting a mask of unhappiness across her face. She stood, taking him by the arm, leading him away to a dimly lit corner and lowering her voice.

“Vilkas, have I done something to offend?” His brows shot up in surprise at her query and he shook his head.

“No, I am relieved you will have aid in this part of your quest but in truth I had already made up my mind to return to Whiterun with all haste this morning.” His voice was pitched low to match hers as he continued. “The jarl needs to be made aware of what happened at Helgen. If dragons truly are returning, smaller settlements such as Riverwood are practically defenseless. He has a duty to defend these people.” Will’s clouded face lit up with a joyous smile that caught the burly Nord off guard as well as the relieved husky laugh she released.

“I’m so glad. I thought I had done something wrong. Turns out you are just being,” and here she gestured to his entirety, “you. Putting your worry of others first, doing the right thing even when it is inconvenient. It’s a good idea. I will miss your company though.” Vilkas regarded her, his eyes searching her face for guile and finding nothing but earnest regard. His gruff heart softened and he allowed himself a small smile before clasping her arm in his.

“Stay safe. Don’t die. Come home as soon as you are able.” He peered into her eyes willing her to feel how deeply he meant those words. Skjor was probably going to kill him for leaving her side, but the jarl did need to know what was happening in his own hold, and though Vilkas did NOT trust the instincts of his wolf, he did trust his own and he felt he could trust Will.

Will on the other hand was caught off guard at Vilkas telling her to come “home”. She had never really had a home to go back to. She had shelter. She had a place she stayed and slept but in her entire life nothing had ever felt like home to her. She debated briefly over whether Jorrvaskr could be home before determining that while it had potential it was still far too soon to accept that. Still she found herself internally melting at the idea that Vilkas, who did consider Jorrvaskr his home, also considered it hers as well.

“You’ll see me again before you can even miss me.” She breathed. He snorted, pulling back.

“We’ll see.” Vilkas grabbed his pack from the floor, sliding it easily over his shoulders. He eyed the wood elf sternly. “Take no unnecessary risks. Do what you must and get out of that burrow safely you hear? Watch each others backs and you will be fine.” Faendal nodded uncertainly, his eyes sliding from Vilkas to Will and back again. Will slid back into the seat next to him as the Companion left.

“So it looks like it’s just the two of us. Feel like going on an adventure?” She smirked at him. Faendal smiled back uncertainly.

“For Camilla, alright.”

“That’s a good man!” Will sing-songed rising from her seat, “dress warmly, it’s always cold at the peak.”

Will hadn't been lying. The further up the mountain they went the colder the air became. With the biting wind came thick heavy biting balls of ice and hale along with the thick snow. The sky seemed intent on marking her painting the canvas of her body in black and blue and pink and Will cut loose a litany of invective's involving genitals, mothers and every member of the Divines that had Faendal’s ears turning an alarming shade of crimson. The winding path round the mountain narrowed dangerously above the tiny village of Riverwood and the two of them were forced to walk in single file, both huddling miserably against the rising rocky shelter of the mountainside. The trees had at first thinned then dwindled to nothing and the only cover they had was what the storm gave them and a few large gray boulders as they crept closer to the ruins of Bleak Falls Tower. Will knew there would be at least three bandits in the tower if reality mirrored the game and as they got closer she stifled the streaming sewage laden curses against the weather and drew her bow. Faendal did the same, looking at her curiously. She gestured to the tower. He narrowed his gaze and then in a swift motion fired an arrow and then shoved her to the side as an arrow sped passed where she had just been standing. A charging figure in the distance let out a loud cry that was barely heard by Will, lost to the screaming wind and pelting hale.

Will fired her own arrow which caught the charging bandit in the chest while another from Faendal felled the behemoth by puncturing the man’s throat. The two of them crept silently to the base of the tower, neither bothering to loot the bodies of the fallen. Will put away her bow and arrows and drew her sword, readying her buckler and taking the lead. Faendal kept his bow out and arrow knocked as they climbed the rickety wooden ramp up the tower. The last bandit awaited them at the top, guarding their treasure chest and garbed in mismatching bits of heavy armor. The woman’s voice echoed hollowly from her metal helm.

“Stay back! I’m warning you!” Will ignored her, certain she was the last remaining bandit and so with large purposeful strides she went on the attack. The bandit dodged backward, narrowly avoiding an arrow from Faendal, she roared, beating her sword against a large shield. At first glance, the woman had better armor and a larger shield, one would suppose she had a better chance against Will in armored combat, but though she had more armor she moved as if unaccustomed to its weight. The shield was too large for her small frame and too heavy for the muscles holding it. She was also fighting in cramped quarters with limited maneuverability. Will however was in reinforced light armor, at this point very experienced in combat with a one handed sword and buckler and her gear was familiar and light enough that the other woman stood no chance against her. The fight was nearly over before it began. The bandit charging her put too much weight behind her shield bash and nearly fell to the floor as Will deftly dodged her charging form, shoving her forward with her smaller buckler to stand behind her and slide her blade in one side of the woman’s torso and out the other. There was a wet squelching sound and a surprised exhale before the woman slumped and gravity pulled her body off Will’s blade. Will wiped it clean on the woman’s fur cloak before she could think better of it. Sheathing the blade she eyed the cloak speculatively before pulling it off the corpse and wrapping it around her shoulders. Faendal and Will huddled beneath the wooden stairs in the dilapidated tower as the storm raged on outside, the two deciding it would be better to wait out the storm than try to continue their ascent in the midst of the raging blizzard. Faendal, shivering pulled out a flask and took a deep drink before turning a concerned gaze toward her. His eyes widened as he took in her condition.

Will was shivering uncontrollably, huddled against the wall and burrowed within the heavy fur cloak. Unbeknownst to her but alarmingly evident to him her lips had taken on a blue cast.

“By the divines, why are you so cold! Aren’t you a Nord?!” Will would have laughed at his scandalized exclamation if she hadn’t been so miserable.

“N-n-no! I j-j-just l-l-looklikeone!” A pained whine escaped the end of her rushed exhale. Faendal handed her the flask and she greedily took it from him gulping and then gasping as the fiery liquid burned a path from throat to bowel but even as she coughed in agony a delightful warmth seemed to spread from her middle and throughout her body. She smiled giddily up at her companion. “Th-th-thank, thanks, thanky, thanky you, you, verra much.” Faendal laughed softly at the effect of the heating balm on his companion, scooching closer to her and pulling the fur cloak she had pilfered from the dead bandit.

“Here, make room for me in there. My body heat will help warm you up.”

“Kay, kay, okie dokie- aight! Just no hankynannigans, shinanapankys.” She stopped her face curling up in disgusted realization. “M’words are funny, Am I drink? Drunk?” Faendal laughed out loud pulling her into his lap and wrapping the cloak tightly around the two of them.

“Maybe a little. It should wear off quickly though. The warmth will last for a bit, you’ve never had a warming draught before?”

“No.” She answered honestly.

“Well since you are not a Nord my Nord-looking friend, I recommend you carry some with you and accustom yourself to their effects. They can save your life in some of the coldest parts of the province.”

“You, you are, yooore,” she slurred, giggling before continuing her valiant attempts to speak, “yoooo’rrre a good man, Charlie Brown.” Faendal frowned briskly running his arms up and down hers trying to surround her in his warmth.

“Will, my name is Faendal. Do you know where you are?” Will cracked up. Laughter was all he could get from her for several minutes before the two of them fell asleep in the tower.

They awoke just as the sun was setting, Faendal woke up first, the eerie quiet of the mountain rousing him from sleep. He shook his companion awake. She stood quickly, smiling her thanks as she moved up to the top of the tower. She picked the lock on the chest that was waiting and Faendal watched her with interest. She grinned exultantly at him as the chest clicked and the lid sprung open. The grin was short lived as she examined the contents of the chest, the happy grin becoming a melancholic look of sadness as she briefly glanced toward the dead bandit.

“They died for this?” She whispered, she held up a bag of about ten septims, a small health potion and a rusty dagger. Faendal shrugged.

“It wasn’t much but it was theirs.”

“I would have let them keep it if only they had just offered shelter from the storm instead of automatically attacking.” Her voice was thick with grief as she worked to hold back her tears.

“Skyrim is a harsh land, people will defend what they see as theirs with all they have.”

“These guys had nothing! It was not worth their lives.” Will’s voice lashed out in anger and Faendal paused taking in her discomfort.

“Will. They were after what you and I had as well. To them, killing us and taking what we had was worth both our lives and theirs. You should not be so quick to spend your grief on thugs such as these.” His voice was soft, soothing. Will felt the rage leave her but the sorrow remained.

“I know Faendal. But I think maybe Skyrim and her people could afford to spend a little more grief on lives lost to the harshness of this land.” Will awkwardly turned the body of the bandit over, laying the over-sized shield on her body and placing the rusty dagger next to her.

“Rest in peace you stupid bitch.” She whispered before walking the ramp back to the tower exit and onto the mountain path. Faendal followed on silent feet, allowing Will her strange and out of place sorrow.

The ruins of Bleakfalls Barrow rose up before them like a giant black Shadow etched from the mountain and resting on a pristine bed of white. The two moons had risen long before they crested the top, and their light, combined with the pristine expanse of white, lent the picture before them a spectral glow painted in vivid contrast of light and dark. The bony stone fingers of lookout perches and soaring buttresses poked the sky like undead knuckles and draugr digits. The two adventurers shivered, both of them tightening their grips on their drawn bows. Will had warned him that three, maybe four bandits would be guarding the entrance. They could be armed with bows and elemental magic so they needed to be careful. As they approached the ruins a dark shadow detached itself from one of the outbuildings so soundlessly and without warning that Will yelped in surprise- even as Faendal aimed an arrow at the High elf that approached them, his arms raised up in a placating gesture.

“Well, look what we have here, an Outworlder, not a native to our world. Newly formed if I’m not mistaken.” He inhaled deeply a sharp-toothed grin spreading over his narrow features. “You have the combined stink of both the Aedra and the Daedra about you. How interesting.” The beings' tall slender form stepped closer to them and both Will and Faendal took a step back. Will’s skin prickled in warning. The being before them was dangerous and dangerously powerful. She could sense the restrained strength that surrounded him. Moonlight glinted off his white hair and gilded skin as eyes deep and dark as the abyss stared straight through her. “Oh, and a being with the soul of a dragon no less. How intriguing.” He hissed.

“Do I know you?” Will questioned, this seemed familiar. 

“Perhaps. In another life, at another time.” Was the mer’s ambiguous response.

“We have no quarrel with you.” Faendal snapped his arrow unwavering. “Let us pass and be on our way.”

“Manimarco!” Will shouted in sudden realization. “You’re Manimarco this wickedly powerful necromancer! Some even call you king of worms. Why do they do that? Who’d want to be king of worms- but you, you’re like this powerful necromancer right?” The being laughed, a sound both full of delight and sinister threat.

“That’s me. In the flesh, still alive thanks to my own ingenuity, the wonders of necromancy, cloning and a bit of help from a soul gem.”

“Yeah, you were a mod I downloaded to get a companion, a wisecracking skeleton that uses fire and jokes to lay waste to his enemies Xerses or Xena or Xanthys- Xanthys!” Will was inordinately proud of herself for remembering.

“So you know about my dear friend, then? You do not disapprove?” Will whooped a great grin spilling over her features as she put her hand on Faendal's arrow, having him lower the weapon trained on the imposing figure of the strange Mer.

“No way Xanthys was great! I just always had trouble getting him to play nice with Inigo- Inigo! If you are here and Xanthys is here then maybe Inigo is here too!” Will’s eyes were shining with delighted realization. One swift stride forward had the necromancer inside her space and before she could do or say anything his hand was gripping her temple while his other cast a paralytic glyph toward Faendal. Will didn’t even get to grunt in protest before Manimarco was suddenly inside her mind sifting through her memories as if he were turning the pages of a book. Will was incensed at the blatant invasion. She pushed back. Manimarco snarled and shoved his will even more forcefully into her mind but Will was stubborn and pissed and perhaps if there were any reason other than chance guiding the hands of the divines in their choosing of the dragonborn it was her own strength of will and her own anger which she had spent an entire lifetime suppressing for the sake of others. Suddenly Will was wrath. He had no right to be in her mind. Instead of shoving him out she dragged him deeper. She wrapped her essence around the will, the sentience that was Manimarco, ripping him from his body. The empty vessel that had been the king of worms dropped to the ground and snarling, Will crushed the necromancer's spirit deep into a seemingly bottomless and empty cage in her mind. He wailed and screamed, his strength bent on leaving, not on staying and Will roared her fury before expelling him with everything she had that made her, her.

With a great gasping inhalation of air Manimarco shakily drew breath and rose to his feet only to freeze as Will pressed the point of her sword into his throat, her eyes wild and furious.

“Why?” She hissed, her arms trembling with the urge to stab him as she struggled to restrain her violent impulse. Manimarco was still at her feet.

“I had to know what you are, what you know. I had to know if you were a threat.”

“I was NOT before you came at me, bro!”

“Then please!” The necromancer hissed, his eyes never lifting from the ground, “spare me. For my mistake you can have the one who sleeps, trapped within these walls. He will be loyal to you! You know this!”

“I do.” Will sheathed her sword. “I also know I am not yet strong enough to face the trials of this prison. Not for you or for him.” The necromancer cautiously looked up at Will.

“But, you will come back for him? He does not deserve to spend eternity locked away in there.” There was in his voice a note of genuine regret that gave her pause.

“Maybe. But you will leave me. And pray we never meet again Manimarco. What you did was a dick move!” Manimarco bowed his head and then he was gone. No flash no smoke just there one second, gone the next.

“Okay that was creepy. What in Oblivion just happened?” Faendal hissed, his eyes taking in her shaken appearance.

“Will, are you okay?” Will shrugged, pulling her bow back out.

“Yeah. I’m fine, I’ll be fine.” In truth Will was anything but fine. She had taken the spirit of that creature into herself. She had found a dark and empty seemingly bottomless prison inside herself and she felt half mad from the finding, half scared of returning to that place knowing now that it existed. 

It had to be where the dragon souls went. In the game the dragonborn took the souls of the dragons she slew and they helped the dragonborn unlock the words of power, making the dragonborn stronger. She had never given much thought to where their souls went. She knew now that she was much like her bag, an enchanted vessel with seemingly endless storage. Had the divines used a similar enchantment on her that she used on her bag. Was she even human anymore or just a vessel, a thing? She shuddered again at the thought of the vast empty darkness inside herself. Now that she knew it was there she could feel it, sitting there empty on the edge of her awareness. She blinked back tears. What had been done to her to make her capable of carrying this burden? 

Mutinously, Will pushed through her moment of self pity, using the angst and residual rage at what Manimarco had done to power through the guardians of the ruins at Bleakfalls Barrow. Faendal wounded one of the thugs guarding the entrance and fired a second arrow keeping the bandits from swarming her. Will, drowning in her unprocessed feelings, swung and cut and blocked and stabbed. She dodged the precise swing of a broadsword, using her buckler to smash the face of the Nord Berserker and dragged her own sword across his middle slicing him open to spill his steaming organs onto the cold snowy ground. She idly wondered why so many bandits fought shirtless in this weather. A mage shooting lightning at her cackled evilly before realizing it barely slowed her down. She impaled him, smashing his face repeatedly with her buckler until it was a meaty mess of flesh paste. The bandits down, Faendal and Will pushed into the abandoned ruins leaving the snow and the freshly fallen dead outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long wait and long waits are not over. I am teaching distance learning online with no training on programs and platforms available. I must be live all day so I teach 8-3 then I plan usually 3-midnight every night making videos finding links and creating online versions of tests and practice pages it is a nightmare and I am going crazy. The parents hate it and so they hate and blame me and I am in tears because of them every day. My mom's dementia has worsened and I now bathe her and help clean her up from the bathroom. I feel like I have lost my best friend but part of her is still there I see her. Some days I just want to bow out of this life and sleep for a million years but she needs me and my brother needs me so I channel my inner Dory and just keep swimming. Working on this story makes me happy, it is an escape. Reading the many stories I subscribe to takes me away from the exhaustion and fear and gives me strength and courage in small doses to be used to power through the next day.
> 
> Breaks may be long between chapters until summer break but I am determined to deliver quantity and quality of the best I have to offer. Also I seriously want to write some smut but apparently I've no taste for writing smut for smuts sake- though rest assured I read it and love it! So I gave Will a wet dream.
> 
> To all who read. Thank you, I hope you get as much from Will's journey as I do even with the unexpected surprises that pop up along the way. To all who gave kudos and comments thank you I truly appreciate them.


	12. Cha[ter 12 Hakuna Matata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bleak Falls Barrow

Chapter 12 Hakuna Matata

Though the wind no longer bit into her flesh and seared her lungs with bitter breeze, cold still crawled across her skin like the unwelcome caress of a late night mistake who stayed until morning. Sunlight filtered into the ruined chamber of Bleak Falls barrow painting clouds of dust and snow in hues of white and gold. 

Faendal and Will crouched low moving silently into the dimly lit chamber. Her wood elf companion took out a skeever as they crept along, voices at the end of the chamber, bouncing off the walls, evidence that they were not the sole human occupants of the ancient building. Stepping around piles of detritus, arrows at the ready, the two offered no warning as they let arrows fly to pierce two Nord bandits crouching low over the open flames of a small fire. Flickering light accompanied a small bubble of warmth as they neared the small camp. This time it was Faendal who picked the lock on the chest as Will searched the bodies of the fallen with sad eyes.

These bandits subsisted on little to nothing and there but for the grace of fate Will’s life could have succumbed to a similar outcome. She wondered sadly how many in the province turned to such rough living due to lack of alternatives. The newly discovered great hollow place inside throbbed in sympathy, and she shuddered at its reminder. Her lips, chapped and dry from wind and snow and a cold that seemed to seep into her bones, had her pulling out her waterskin to take a drink; wiping dust and frost from her face and offering it to Faendal who merely shook his head and began pacing downward, deeper into the ruins. 

The weather darkened stones gave way to rock carved walls that had never felt the wet brush of winter’s kiss, dark blue grays and the spatter of green lichens fading into the dull brown of dirt and rust from iron elements added by delving humans. Lit sconces and wall torches lit the gravel path occasionally strewn with droppings and dessicated husks of long dead roots, coiling through the heart of stone and carved ruins. The path through a few doors were blocked by rubble and fallen debris as the two silently crept deeper into the mountain.

As they rounded a corner to a new passage of stairs the mumbling whispers of a nervous bandit reached their ears and with a gesture Will halted Faendal’s approach, moving to take the lead, and the two slowed their steps, cautiously moving forward. The bandit neither sensed nor saw them as he attempted to discover the secret to unlocking a small portcullis blocking the path forward. Alas for him, poisoned iron darts glowing green ended his explorations and he fell to the ground dead for his efforts. Will did a quick double check of the stones with the code to assure herself they matched the one in game before opening the way forward as Faendal checked the body, tossing her a health potion and pocketing a handful of septims for himself.

Deeper into the chilled halls they delved sconces and torches fading behind them creating deeper shadows and larger swaths of darkness between light sources. Strands of sticky webbing began to paint the walls, a grotesque foreshadowing to the battle to come and Will grimaced in distaste her skin crawling.

“There’s a giant spider in a chamber up ahead.” She whispered to Faendal. He glanced at her in askance.

“Steady Will. Webs like these are common in long abandoned ruins. Let’s not let our fears create enemies that are not there.” Will stared at him through narrowed eyes before shrugging.

“Fine. You’ll see. You take the lead.” Faendal sighed at her miffed tone but moved back to the front. As he drew his short sword to clear the webbing from the entrance to the room where Will knew the behemoth spider awaited them Will gestured him to wait as she used a wall torch to burn away the webbing surrounding a small treasure chest, her nose curling in revulsion as she gingerly moved the skeleton aside. Her distaste did nothing to stop her from pocketing the four septims or small stamina potion that lay beneath the bones and crumbling leather clothing. Faendal seemed to watch her with interest as she picked the lock on the chest when a voice cried out, possibly attracted to the noise Will was making moving the bones and picking the locks on the chest.

"Is... is someone coming?” A breathy note of relief underscored by hysteria and panic, “Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling? I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help!"

“He has the claw!” Faendal hissed, surging forward. With a frustrated grunt Will grabbed the overeager bosmer by the waistband and hauled him back to her. He stared down at her crouched form in surprise.

“Easy there squirrely Dan, let's see if there’s anything in this chest that may help us against the spider up ahead. Faendal looked as if he wanted to say something but then checked himself and simply nodded. After unlocking the chest Will withdrew a scroll which she handed to Faendal- no way was she going to try using magic. She also found two small health potions and a ring. She pocketed them all and motioned for Faendal to keep moving.

“So what was on the scroll?” she asked as he used the same torch she had used to burn away the webbing.

“A fireball spell.” He whispered back. Will nocked an arrow.

“Can you use it?”

“Of course.” He said cockily.

“Good, then get ready, spiders hate that shit.” A loud scuttling pierced the silence as a great wet beast covered in spikes and exoskeleton descended from the ceiling with a chittering sound that never failed to disgust Will.

"Keep it away from me,” The imprisoned Dunmer at the end of the new chamber wailed, “Ah, kill it. Kill it!" Will shot an arrow into the beast and was already drawing a second when Faendal spoke fire to life which wrapped hungry destruction around the now screaming creature as it slammed into the ground, struggling against the fire and sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air around it. Will fired again as Faendal moved in to slash it with his sword. The sound of chitin crunching and the soft internals squelching put an end to the discordance of the dying creature and the two adventurers turned their attention to the hapless thief wrapped in webbing.

"You! Over here, help me out of here!” Arvel wailed, “Get me down, get me down!" His voice was tinged with hysteria but Will couldn’t find it in her heart to blame him. The first few times she had faced down spiders of that size she had felt very much the same and they had never had her wrapped up and at their mercy. As Faendal moved to cut him down Will stilled him with a gesture and approached the captured elf.

“Before we cut you down you and I need to have a little chat.” The Dunmer eyed her warily, his red eyes pinpricks of ruby light set in a face of exaggerated angles and harsh ridges. “You have the golden claw I believe?”

"Yes, the claw. I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how they all fit together! Help me down, and I'll show you. You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden there." His eyes were lit with an avaricious light and Will sighed. If they cut him down he would run off and die, either by their hand or due to the draugr and Will was loathe to see more senseless death.

“Here’s the thing, If we cut you down you are going to run- after all why share the treasure with anyone, am I right?” Arvel squinted at her, his lip curling in frustration.

“Well if you don’t cut me down you’ll never see the claw.” He snapped.

“Arvel. You and I both know you are lying. The claw is on your person right now. My friend and I could stab you. Kill you. Take the claw and be done with this.”

“Then why don’t you?” He snapped.

“You know his name?” Faendal gasped, aghast.

“I told you I know some things,” before turning her attention back to Arvel, “My friend here sees killing bandits and outlaws as a natural part of living in Skyrim. I have no qualms about killing anyone who threatens me or my friends. But Arvel the Swift you and I find yourself in what I like to think of as a glorious in between space ripe with potential and possibilities, so let me lay it out for you okay? My friend and I just killed all your bandit friends without breaking a sweat. We are obviously very good at what we do. In less than a minute we killed that giant spider over there which was going to eat you. You’re welcome. When I cut you loose, if you run away, draugr in the next room will kill you. We will kill the draugr and then loot your corpse for the claw. If however, you stay with us, give the claw to my friend there, fight beside us as we make our way to the innermost chamber I will take the stone tablet I have come for, Faendal will take the claw which is what he came for and you can have any treasure you find which is what you came for. Arvel, this is a good deal for you and best of all you get to live.” Arvel seemed to be sizing them up.

“What, you expect me to believe you don’t want the treasure?”

“I think, Arvel, you are going to be disappointed at the lack of treasure you will find.”

“What about this rock you mentioned? Is it worth something? I won’t let you cheat me out of my share.” Will rolled her eyes. 

“Its just a stone map of dragon burial mounds, not a gemstone, I’m not even getting paid for it. A wizard wants it and I aim to give it to him.”

“Will,” Faendal interjected, “you can’t be serious. This mer is a- a criminal! And a thief. You can’t trust him to fight beside us. I would worry the entire time that he was going to slit my throat.”

“He can only do that if he slips behind us so we make him stay in front of us. Please Fae, I don’t want to kill anyone if I don’t have to. I mean look at him, he’s half naked in Skyrim. Skyrim is fucking cold. He needs this treasure more than us and I could have been him if not for the kindness of the people of Riverwood and certain advantages gifted to me by fate. I need to extend the offer of life when I can if I am going to be taking it as often as we have today. I need to be able to live with myself.” Faendal heaved a frustrated sigh.

“Will, that kind heart of yours is going to get you killed.”

“The day we stop offering kindness and second chances is the day we die inside anyway.” Will stated bleakly. “I need to find my own way is Skyrim. This feels right.” Will turned to the thief who seemed to be scrutinizing her with cunning calculation. “What say you then?” Will asked.

“I say you’re a fool.” He shot back, before sighing deeply. “And I am very lucky that you are the adventurer to find me today.” Will smiled brilliantly at him, her relief bubbling up into a soft laugh as she cut him down.

“Thank you Arvel. I am so glad I didn’t need to kill you or watch you die today.”

“I must admit I’m not too broken up about it myself, serrah.”

“Not so fast thief.” Faendal spit out. “Hand over the claw.” Arvel pulled the claw from a hidden pouch, eying the Bosmer’s arrow pointing at his jugular with cautious dismay. 

“Easy now, we are all comrades here.” He looked to Will who shrugged and so Arvel handed the claw to Faendal. The Bosmer had to lower his arrow to take the claw and he checked it over swiftly, an excited smile on his face as he placed it in his bag. 

“Alright Dunmer, lead on, and no funny business.” Faendal jerked his arrow toward the chamber beyond. So Arvel led them deeper into the bowels of the mountain. Will began whispering a litany of warnings and advice as they followed the path downward. 

“So, be on the alert. Use your ears, if you hear a groan find the draugr and kill it before it can rise. If it’s a shouter they can’t use the Thu’um until they stand up. They fall to fire quickly because they are like dry kindling, but if it’s a shouter avoid being in the direct path of their voice. Watch the floor for pressure plates and if you see a spiked door know that there are pressure plates!”

“You seem to know a lot about this place serrah, been here before have you.” Arvel arched a haughty brow her way and Will shrugged.

“In a sense. Now be on the alert.”

The next few chambers were a breeze. With the two archers on high alert and Arvel’s deft ability to maneuver in the shadows, thus avoiding the detection of the undead, Will came to truly appreciate the idea of traveling as a group.

“Pressure plate” Arvel whispered gesturing down at the floor. Will gasped in awe as a seemingly invisible rock inscribed with a runic design seemed to appear before her eyes, a dusting of sand falling away from its surface as she focused on it.

“Is that… is that magic?” Will whispered in awe. Arvel chuckled lightly at her tone, even Faendal couldn’t resist throwing her an amused grin. 

“Of a sort,” the Dunmer chuckled. “It’s part of the wards built into places such as these. No one in modern times knows how the ancient Nords did it, however they are easy to spot if you know what to look for and you are watching for them.”

“One should always be watching for them in places such as these then.” Will muttered darkly.

“True.” He whispered back. The three came to a hall with swinging blades and Faendal groaned in frustration.

“Now what!” he huffed, turning fearfully to Will who was studying the swinging blades with just as much dismay as he was. In the game running through the hall was not a big deal, however in reality, when faced with those large sharp blades Will was not so blase about trying to get through them. Arvel chuckled at them both.

“Now my illustrious friends, you get to find out why they call me Arvel, the Swift.” He took a moment to judge the timing of the blades hopping on the balls of his feet before rushing forward with a hearty whoop of cocky joy. Will felt her heart nearly stop then speed up as he passed unscathed through the swinging blades.

“Oh, bravo! That was fucking impressive!” Arvel grinned toothily at her before pulling the chain that stopped the blades from swinging.

“I live to impress.” He said.

The three trekked through narrowing tunnels, Will sending Arvel to run ahead and lure the draugr into the oil slicks so she could loose an arrow into the conveniently hanging oil lanterns setting them on fire and thus clearing the way forward. Deeper into the mountain they went as carven walls and runic chambers gave way to rough hewn mountain chambers and natural tunnel formations. The gilded light of torch and sconce replaced by the otherworldly glow of bioluminescent fungi. Arvel gestured Will and Faendal forward to a narrow opening in a cavern wall. Heavy grunting and lumbering footfalls revealed the presence of a frost troll below them. In quick succession the two fired four arrows into the beast. With a loud roar the creature turned and began lumbering up the path. Arvel let out a guttural cry and launched himself into the air across the great empty expanse, his daggers raised as he landed on the back of the troll, stabbing it in the head as he landed on its back. It fell to the path with a groan, thumping solidly onto the rock, sending a rain of snow and ice from the ledge to the pit below. Will could only stare in open mouthed awe as Arvel cockily stood, sheathing his blades, positively preening before her.

“That was either the most badass thing I have ever seen or the craziest!” She laughed.

“Why not both?” Faendal muttered dryly, though even he seemed to have difficulty holding back his admiration.

Eventually they came to the dragon door and Will turned the mechanism to match the claw markings before using the claw as a key and opening the door to the chamber beyond. The wide expanse of the inner chamber spread before them. The falling water and white light from the sky above painted a picture of rocky splendor. The water was so loud they had to shout to be heard. As they moved forward Faendal released a low whistle. 

“I’ve never seen something so beautiful.” He shouted in awe.

“Just be ready” Will called back just as loudly, “there is a powerful draugr in the coffin up ahead, when that treasure chest is opened he will rise and try to kill us. I think he has two shouts: one can throw us into the rocks and another can disarm our weapons.”

As they approached the center of the chamber Will could see the glowing word on the word wall and heard it calling to her. Her cares seemed to slip away from her. All she could hear was a loud chanting in her ears that became louder the closer she came to the wall. The glowing light of the dragon script filling not just her sight, but also her mind, as mesmerized, she stalked forward. Dimly she could hear Faendal calling her name but it was like the buzzing of an insect easily ignored. There were shouts and cries of surprise and pain. She heard a shout. The draugr deathlord must have awoken but still she was unable to pull her focus away from the wall. She raised a hand to touch the glowing script and felt a roaring whoosh of wind and power fill her body beginning with her stomach and she heard a word Fus… visions if hurricane force winds and crumbling storefronts filled her mind and a thought ever elusive perched on the tip of her understanding only to fade to black as her senses came rushing back to her.

“Dammit Will! A little help please!”

Will turned her attention from the wall and her eyes widened in horror. Faendal was firing arrows into a draugr that was fast overtaking him. Arvel was nowhere in sight. With a cry will ran toward the draugr, bow out and slammed it into the back of its neck causing it to stumble and slow its advance on the wood elf. 

It turned on her even as she backpedaled away. This gave Faendal enough time to fire another arrow. The draugr shouted and Will ducked into a dodging roll that barely evaded the blast, she was sent spinning into the frost covered stream, her armor and clothes soaked through and she gasped in frozen shock and pain even as she struggled to rise to her feet. There was a ringing in her ear and her head was throbbing but she was still clinging to her bow. 

Sluggishly she pulled herself up onto the stream-bank and nocked back another arrow. She turned to where she had last seen the draugr. It was chasing Faendal up the steps! She aimed her arrow, arms trembling, releasing it to sail towards the undead creature. It stumbled, falling to its knees. Faendal took advantage of the creature's incapacitation to kick it in the face and bring his own sword down onto the creature's neck, decapitating it. Will just sat there shivering in frozen terror as Faendal too fell to the floor in exhausted relief. The two just sat there huffing frosted breath into the cavern, recovering from the battle shock.

“Fae- where’s Arvel?” Will managed to wheeze.

“That thing shouted. Sent him flying. That way…” Faendal gestured across the cavern and so Will lurched to her feet and began hobbling in the direction Faendal had gestured. She found the dark elf unconscious and crumpled against the wall on the far side of the chamber. She heaved herself to her knees and began feeling for a pulse. He moaned and she almost wept with relief. She pulled out a healing potion and began pouring it into his mouth. The change was almost immediate as his eyes opened and he looked up at her, a slow grin crossing his face.

“Well hello love, ain’t you a sight?” He sat up wincing slightly. Will ignored him as she sagged back onto her bottom and eased herself against the wall. He groaned as he raised himself up to sit beside her. “I ache all over and feel like I’ve been hit by a mammoth. What happened?”

“Thu’um. Zombie shouted you across the room.”

“Fuuuuck.” Will snorted at the Dunmer’s exhalation.

“That’s a swear here?” She exclaimed then cringed at the ringing in her head, raising her hand to the source of the pain and pulling away when she found her fingers came back wet with blood. “Oh geez!”

“I think you need to drink one of those as well s’wit.” He said gesturing to the empty potion bottle next to her. She pulled out another from her hip pouch and drank it down. It tasted like earth and sweat but did the trick as she felt her body healing. The ringing in her ears stopped. The pain in her head eased away. But she was soaked and freezing and exhausted to the bone.

“If you don’t warm up your going to die of exposure.” Arvel stood and held out his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. Together they stumbled to Faendal who looked to still be recovering. Will handed him her last health potion which he gratefully took. He took in her soaked state and the pallor of her skin.

“We need to get you dried off and warmed up now!”

“H-h-how?” She questioned woefully.

“Up there, there’s the exit we can start a small fire, get you out of your wet clothes and warmed up. We all need a rest anyway.” Will followed gratefully unable to think beyond the frozen fog in her mind that told her to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The three of them moved up the stairs and into the back cave Will knew led to the exit. Arvel and Faendal gathered dried and dead or dying bits of roots and vines, dried moss and a few other items to use as kindling. Arvel started a fire while Faendal took her supplies.

“Can you take off your armor on your own or do you need help?”

“Faendal I can’t just take off my clothes in front of you g-g-g-uys.” He snorted in response but his eyes were concerned.

“You can borrow one of the cloaks I stole off the dead bandits to keep warm and maintain your modesty but this is about survival Will. You have to do this.” Will nodded shortly and began stripping. The two mer huddled next to the fire, their backs to her to give her as much privacy as the situation afforded. It was excruciating to take off her wet armor. Her fingers did not want to cooperate but Will was too proud to ask for help. She did manage to get everything off and then laid everything out to dry before wrapping herself up in a bearskin cloak before taking a seat near the fire. A blissful and pained moan escaped her as the heat of the fire began warming her up. 

“So what kind of treasure did you find down there, thief? Was it worth it?” Faendal asked. The Dunmer shrugged.

“A necklace and an enchanted sword. Hopefully I’ll get enough to upgrade my armor, maybe get a meal or two before having to dive into another dungeon. Your friend was right. I am disappointed in the lack of treasure. I was led to believe there was a dragon's hoard down here.”

“There was no dragon’s hoard but there was a dragon word.” Will stated, struggling to keep her eyes opened.

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

“The wall had a word of power inscribed on it. The word of a dragon shout.”

“Is that what had you so focused you completely missed when that draugr rose from his crypt?”

“Uh huh.” Will nodded, eyes falling shut of their own accord. 

  
  


When next she opened her eyes the fire was burnt down to embers. Faendal was slumped over at her side and the Dunmer thief was gone. She stood from her supine position, wincing as her joints cracked in her hips and knees. Standing, completely dry now, she stepped towards her clothes. They were still slightly damp but she wiggled into them and was nearly completely dressed when Faendal stirred to life.

“Will, how are you feeling?” He yawned.

“Damp, achy, a bit stuffy actually.”

“Here.” Faendal offered fishing out a green potion and tossing it her way. 

She eyed it curiously before scooping it up and gulping it down. Immediately her aches faded, the fog in her mind cleared and she felt full of energy. Sure her mouth tasted like farts but this stuff was better than coffee.

“Thanks Fae. Hey, did Arvel leave?”

“Yeah, he left shortly after you passed out. He left that stone etching you wanted by the fire.”

“Sweet.” She smiled, lifting up the stone to examine it. It was relatively light for its size with a series of etchings sketched out on the surface. The edges of the shape surrounding each of the etched stars looked like the shape she had seen on maps, of Skyrim. She slid it into her backpack and after covering the remains of their fire with dirt the two headed out of the cavern. They clambered down the side of the mountain but not before Will allowed herself the pleasure of taking in the dramatic and awe inspiring view of Lake Ilinalta and the surrounding countryside. 

“My god it’s beautiful isn’t it?” She breathed, her voice suffused with affectionate wonder as she drank in the sight spread below her. Faendal laughed at her.

“It’s hard to believe you're no Nord.” He pushed ahead of her to take the lead. Will followed him, a good natured smile spread across her face.

“You don’t have to be a Nord to appreciate the beauty of Skyrim. Contrary to what they say Skyrim does not belong solely to the Nords.” Faendal grunted.

“Just don’t let any of them hear you say that.” She shook her head at him as they traveled down the hillside toward the lake. They traveled through a copse of trees and a field of pink and blue flowers hiding a pack of snarling wolves which were quickly dispatched. Faendal did not seem inclined to stop and chat with the old witch Anise and the two skirted her cabin as they headed towards Riverwood.

“Is there a way to get across?” She asked as they skirted the river's edge, the great wooden buildings slowly appearing in the distance. The sound of the lumber mill and the mill wheel were the next signals that they were nearing the end of their journey together.

“The water gets shallow enough near the mill that you can wade across.” 

“Dammit, I just got dry.” Will complained.

“Sit by the fire in the inn it will dry you right up and warm you too. A hot bowl of stew will help as well.” Will was cheered by that thought.

“So what are you going to tell Camilla?” She questioned.

“I shall tell her that my heart led me to brave danger to return her family heirloom and see her lovely smile brighten her fair face once more. Then I will present to her the golden claw and ask for permission to court her.” She smiled at his reply.

“I’m happy for you Faendal. Who would have thought that nearly killing you with a wood axe would lead the two of us to this outcome?” Faendal laughed deeply before sloshing through the riverbed.

“Not I, that’s for sure.” Will frowned down at the lake.

“Hey, I’ll see you at the inn?” She called out.

“Maybe.” He waved back and disappeared from sight. Will sat down to remove her boots and still moist socks. She held them up as she crossed the riverbed. She entered the Sleeping Giant inn to find it empty of all except Sven and Orgnar. She placed her boots and socks next to the fire to dry ignoring the sour looks Sven was shooting her way as he tuned his lute.

“Orgnar, got anything hot and ready?”

“Got some rabbit stew, been simmering since this morning.”

“Then serve me up a bowl of thumper because I need something hot and filling.”

“You say the strangest things lass.” He brought her some bread and butter and a mug of milk with the stew and she thanked him gratefully before digging into the meal with gusto. He sat across from her as she ate her fill.

“So are you staying at the inn tonight?” Will thought about it before nodding her head.

“Need a bath?” She nodded again more vigorously then before and Orgnar smiled softly. “I’ll see that the bathing room is ready.”

After eating her fill Will set about laying out her belongings in her room to dry. Many of the items in her backpack had been soaked with her fall into the stream under the mountain. Some of the food had to be thrown out. She laid out all her clothes to put by the fire to dry and created a pile of items she would try to sell to the Riverwood trader or Alvor, the blacksmith. Then she headed to the bathing room. Scrubbing the remnant of her adventure from her body she felt invigorated. 

Will dressed in one of the dresses from her pack, it was mostly dry and gave her something to wear while the rest of her things dried out. She was putting her clothes next to the fire when Sven decided to start making a nuisance of himself.

“This isn’t a laundry you know.” He remarked disdainfully. Will looked up at him before turning her questioning gaze toward Orgnar who was busy stocking the bar.

“I know, but I ran into a bit of trouble up at Bleakfalls Barrow. A draugr death lord caught me in a shout and sent me into an underground river. Everything got wet.”

“Ha, now I know you’re lying. Someone like you could never survive a place like Bleakfalls Barrow.” Will shrugged, not taking the bait.

“Believe what you want but I did survive.” She sat down observing his bitter sneer as he mindlessly strummed the strings of his instrument.

“Why don’t you come here and let me teach you a song.”

“Are you a bard too?” He sniped. Will grit her teeth in response.

“No, I know many songs and stories but I am really bad at singing them. It doesn’t mean I would not love to hear them and I would pay to hear the songs of my home played by a quality bard.” 

She had his attention and curiosity as well. He sat down in front of her and she proceeded to tell him the story of the Lion King and to teach him the song Hakuna Matata. He seemed to enjoy her retelling of the story as much as he did learning the song.

“This is a children’s tale. Talking animals, acting like people. I can’t make a living singing songs and telling stories like these.”

“I disagree. You yourself seemed to enjoy the tale and the song is catchy. I think people would enjoy it. You can always make up your own lyrics to go along with it now that you have the pattern down and just keep the chorus the same. Where I come from both the young and the old take comfort in the story and joy in the music. Everyone enjoys a good hero’s journey. And music- well that’s the language of the heart.” Will rose and with a nod left the bard to mull over her words. 

She sold her loot, grinning in delight as she passed an animated Faendal and an enraptured Camilla on the main street of town. Minutes later and a few septims richer she was full of swagger joy to enter the tavern again to the sounds of Hakuna Matata being played and sung. She swung her hips along to the jaunty beat and began snapping her fingers and singing along. A warm and joyous feeling filling her up at this small reminder of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got an ear infection and because I took 2 days off I had time to write. Life is a big bowel of pain and I think I am becoming numb to it all. They moved me out of kindergarten to first grade and the teacher there before me did not leave me the data I needed to effectively teach her class so I had to basically do all the things that should have been done the first 6 weeks of school gathering data on a new grade level I have never taught. Parents were so mad as I was their 3rd teacher for some of the students and of course they took it out on me. I am teaching hybrid with 12 kids in person and 9 online teaching 8 hours then planning and making things digital takes another 4 hrs minimum analyzing and getting new data takes forever while learning new platforms and programs. I am burnt out and exhausted and I may quit teaching altogether. I am forced to let things slide because I have to sleep. My story is still coming though, to any still reading updates will be sporadic till summer but I should be able to get out a chapter or two over winter break and one during spring break. This is one of the few things that bring me actual joy and I was really inspired by A Bards tale by Gabbicav which I just recently finished. It was fantastic!


	13. Revelations in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will returns to Whiterun to follow Vilkas on an adventure

As Will left Riverwood the next day making her way down the now familiar path to Whiterun, she was pleased to see that while she had been away adventuring in the heart of the mountain ruins of Bleakfalls Barrow the Jarl had been busy, sending a small contingent of soldiers to man the walls surrounding Riverwood. They had set up a makeshift camp just outside the town and there were enough of them that they had one third their number busy building a barracks while another patrolled and a third shift slept. Will was happy the Jarl was taking his duty to his people seriously, she just wished his loyalty extended to all of his people. Her thoughts were drifting to Lucia and Brenuin and the fact that for such a small city- to her mind at least, homelessness and poverty should not be an issue. Perhaps instead of a shit piece of armor as her reward she might ask that he look into creating some kind of work program where those in need could earn a warm spot to sleep and a meal in the evening. Such dark and serious ruminations however, were difficult to hold onto as all around her the vibrant colors and natural splendor of Skyrim pressed in around her.

Her breath caught in delighted wonder once again as she rounded the curve in the river passing the streaming and surging series of small waterfalls that never failed to impress her. Such breathtaking views were not part of her Floridian experience and she found herself yearning to take a dip and frolic in the pristine waters. Sadly, it was far too cold for such whimsy to take hold; but though she was vigilant to her surroundings she could not help the yearning ache in her chest as her eye was continually drawn back to the roaring white waters sparkling with mirrored calm in miniature pools between each fall, before cascading once more into a new basin parallel to her path.

With no one to accompany her on her journey her thoughts turned inward, flitting from one thing to another as wayward daydreams often do. She thought on the word wall and the way it had affected her. If they all had the same effect on her she was toast because she had been utterly enthralled by the choir of voices, the rush of power and the full, whole feeling the word had imparted. She would be forced to take a companion- little c- anytime she headed out in the wilderness to protect her from their mesmerizing effect. That could get pricey unless she took one of the Companions- Big C- with her every time she left Whiterun or possibly got a different traveling companion. Her heart surged as she thought of a certain smart blue cat. On her agenda was freeing Fralia and Eorland’s son from Northwatch Keep which would result in the necessity of returning for more training in Hircine’s realm, checking out Riften for Inigo, and trying not to make a complete idiot of herself in front of Vilkas. The dragonstone in her pack was of little matter to her and if she were honest she was not looking forward to her first fight with a dragon either. 

Will plucked flowers and mushrooms as she sped along, humming the chorus to as many songs as she could think of, keeping up a quick trot. She went through several non Disney musical numbers she only half remembered and some bawdy lyrics to old bar room ballads she had listened to on one of her foster parents old record players when she was little. She was not supposed to listen to those records. The illicit thrill had made her listen to them on repeat until she knew several of the songs by heart. However she was happy to see the tall stone walls of Whiterun come into view and her steps increased in speed as the waning light of day painted a majestic backdrop of blue and gold behind her city. That thought too, warmed and cheered her. Her city. She had never felt anything close to pride in where she was from or where she lay each night, but Whiterun felt like it might be hers and in turn maybe she was Whiterun’s as well. Belonging to a place filled her with a sense of wonder and gratitude that startled her in it’s intensity but it also felt good to feel happy.

“Hail citizen. I’ve seen you, training with the Companions. Tis an honorable path you’re on my friend.” Will’s eyes widened and she laughed delightedly.

“Fronji!” She yelled approaching the grinning guard.

“Well met, Will of the Companions.”

“Have you been keeping tabs on me?” She chirped playfully.

“Maybe. But just to make sure you stayed out of trouble and that no one… bothered you.” Will’s eyes met his searchingly. He seemed so genuine. She felt a warm rush in her chest. This rando guard was looking out for her because apparently she had impressed him defending an old lady- and she had thought he didn’t even like her..

“Thank you for that. It’s not something I would expect, especially considering who you are watching out for me from. Don’t put yourself in harm's way. I can take care of myself and I have my shield brothers and sisters as well.” Fronji looked around and then back at her, a mock frown on his face.

“And where pray tell are they now?” Will just laughed.

“Up at Jorrvaskr, where I am heading now. Pinky promise.” She held out her pinky to the confused guardsman.

“Ehh…” He uttered dubiously looking at the raised digit in askance.

“Here,” Will took his hand in hers and raised up his pinky and then twined her own around his. “This is a pinky promise.”

“A pinky promise?” He said.

”Aye a sacred oath between friends that even on pain of death cannot be broken. If you pinky promise someone then you better be for reals.” Will was deadly earnest as she held eye contact with the guard.

“If you say so.” He squeezed back and she grinned. 

“I do.”

“Hey would you like to meet up for a drink at the Bannered Mare later?”

“Sure, I’d like that. See you around Fronji.” The other guards stood aside as Will pushed the red iron warhorses on the gate and entered the city proper. She was heading up to the Wind district, the dead branches of the Gildergreen filling her view when Vilkas appeared, heading her way. She couldn’t help but smile when she saw him and it gladdened her heart to see an answering expression on his face before he re-schooled his features into the warriors mask of stoic disinterest he presented to the world.

“Vilkas,” she called out as he stopped in front of her.

“Good to see you made it home, Will.” He answered.

“Were you able to let the Jarl know about Helgen and the dragon?” She asked, though she already knew the answer.

“Aye, he sent some soldiers to bolster the villages defenses but I don’t know that he put much stock in my talk of dragons. Were it not for the fact that we grew up together and my position as the Companions Master at Arms I do not know that he would have done anything. He is expecting you though. He tried to pawn off some old armor set on me as a reward but I redirected it your way by giving you all the credit for the discovery.”

“Thanks?” She questioned archly. Vilkas chuckled. You can sell it if it’s not up to your standards, I think the armor you’re wearing is better than what he’s trying to unload.” He started to walk off but her hand shot out, touching him on the arm. He froze and his eyes met hers and she gulped at the sudden heat that seemed to surround her.

“Wh-where are y-you off to?” She asked inanely struggling to control her heartbeat and relax.

“I’m off to do a job; seems Torvar couldn’t be bothered to fulfill his contract and so I’m off to pick up the slack.”

“Alone? I thought Companions always traveled in pairs?” Vilkas shrugged but Will frowned. “Gimmie a minute to put away my things and I’ll join you.”

“As you like.” He said, a small smile gracing his face and Will found herself blushing as she turned away to race up the steps to Jorrvaskr. She put away some of her clothes in dire need of a washing and slid the dragonstone beneath her bunk. She also threw out some smashed and spoiled food and threw much of her looted weapons, armors, and septims on her bed before bolting out of the sleeping quarters where the new recruits stayed and down the hall toward the rooms of the inner circle. She knocked on the door to Aela’s room but there was no answer.

“You! What are you doing here?” Will turned her head, smiling gamely over at Skjor who regarded her with one-eyed suspicion.

“Just got back from doing a job for Aela, wanted to let her know it was taken care of.”

“Well she’s not here.” He growled. Will sighed.

“Well then if you see her before I do pass the message on will you. I gotta go.”

“Where to?” He barked. Will turned on her heel to eye him in incredulous wonder. Who was he? Her dad?

“Vilkas is going on a job and he was going alone. He told me Companions always travel in pairs so I asked him to wait for me.” She spoke slowly enunciating each word carefully, keeping her expression bland and not losing eye contact. She wanted him to feel just how ridiculous she thought his interrogation was and that she would not be cowed.

“Oh, well. Alright then.” He muttered, a ghost of a smile playing peek-a-boo at the corners of his mouth. Will rolled her eyes mumbling about the patriarchy and made her way back to Vilkas’ side.

“Are you in a terrible hurry or can I grab a snack? I haven’t eaten since this morning when I left Riverwood.”

“No rush. We’re going to hit a bandit camp so daylight is not our friend.” Vilkas fell in behind her letting her take the lead. She stopped at the Dunmer food stall and after a moment perusing his wares asked what he would choose.

“I haven’t eaten in a while and would like to be full but not feast day fat if you know what I mean.” The Dunmer trader laughed.

“I got just what you need, friend. This is an ashyam, they’re not native to Skyrim but steamed until soft and split up the middle you top it with a sprinkling of salt a dash of fresh butter and marshmerrow pulp- another plant native to Morrowwind and not only will you feel sated for hours but the blend of salty and sweet is a true delight for your Nordic senses.” Will paid for the treat, smiling her thanks and taking a small wooden two-tined fork from him, dug in. She and Vilkas walked in silence as Will ate and Vilkas kept pace. The Dunmer was right about the flavor but he neglected to mention how it worked with the texture to become bliss on her tongue. Will moaned with pleasure, slurping up the softest portions of the tuber before scraping off the sides.

“Oh my goodness,” She said around a mouthful, “have you tried these?!” Vilkas laughed softly, eyeing her sideways as they made their way past Warmaidens.

“No, can’t say that I have. I prefer Nordic food, that mer stuff is a little too out there for my taste.”

“Vilkas! No!” Will hissed in mock disapproval. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He gave a bit more attention to her meal and her face, curiosity lighting up his eyes.

“You could give me a taste?” Will clutched her meal closer glaring fiercely.

“Fuck off and get your own. This one’s mine!” He laughed at her expression and Will found herself entranced by the sound. 

They were just about to exit the city when a small voice called out, causing Will and Vilkas to pause. Lucia was racing down the village path, her ponytail whipping behind her as she flew, her tiny feet pounding the pebbled path as she caught up to them.

“Will!” She wheezed hands on her knees as she gazed up at her from beneath her wayward bangs. “I thought I had missed you! Hulda… Hulda said she saw you and I was wondering if you were staying in town?” As she managed to catch her breath she straightened up and clasped her hands in front of her in a pleading gesture. Will grinned.

“Sorry kid, I’m off to kick a-pples, kick apples with Vilkas here. Maybe next time.”

“Aww. Well, nevermind.” Will frowned at the dejected tone and slump to her shoulders.

“Hey, none of that. Is everything alright? I paid Hulda enough that you should have plenty to eat and warm spot by the fire each night. Nobody’s bothering you right?”

“Yeah- I mean no, nobody is bothering me, I just. I just missed you is all, I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Will’s heart throbbed a little in her chest. She knelt down at Lucia’s eye level.

“Alright, I have to go, that can’t be helped. But I promise next time I’m in town I will find you and we’ll spend some time together, maybe even have an adventure all our own. What say you?” Lucia’s eyes had widened and a grin grew to replace her frown.

“You mean it!” She squealed in girlish delight. Will held out her pinkie and took Lucia’s in her other hand, joining the two together.

“Pinky promise.” The little girl watched her leave a new delight on her face and Will couldn’t help her own small, satisfied smile. She had done good and it felt good to be missed by someone.

“You’re very kind.” Vilkas spoke as they left Whiterun behind them.

“So are you.” She countered. He just shook his head. 

“I’m not. I’m an honorable man. I’m a warrior. I’m a Companion of Ysgrammor. I am not kind.”

“Bull.” She shot back, “I’ve seen the way you mentor the other companions. You helped Ria with her swordsmanship, you were incredibly patient with her. You accompanied me to Riverwood because you were worried when I went off alone. I know the Companions have no master so that was all you and it was thoughtful and kind. You told the Jarl about the dragon and Helgen, putting the safety of strangers ahead of our own mission. You were heading off to fight a group of bandits because one of your brothers never met a beer he didn’t like and rather than wait until the patron complained you were going to go take care of it alone even though you are supposed to take a shield sibling. Face it you big lug, you’re a good guy.” Vilkas seemed to squirm uncomfortably under her praise, so with a shrug Will changed the subject.

“So what exactly is the mission?”

“We are sent to retrieve a family heirloom that was stolen by some bandits holed up in the Halted Stream camp.”

“What kind of camp is it?” Will asked.

“It used to be an old iron mine until it mostly dried up. The miners that used to work it built a barricade- a spiked wooden wall around a small camp that sits just outside of the mine- here,” he gestured, leading Will to cross up one of the wooden ramps to a gap between the fields outside the city and the wall. “The wall was initially built to keep the wildlife out. The way I figure it we may be facing a dozen bandits- or less if we are lucky.”

“And you were going to try to take them out all on your own?” She gasped incredulously. He shrugged.

“Well, I was going to wait till dark.” He stated, pointing up at the sky. It was then Will noticed that the daylight which was already fading as she arrived in the city earlier had already metamorphosed into darkness. Vilkas had a presence that seemed to fill everything when she was with him. The rest of the world was just background noise. Still, what a world it was! 

The twin moons were full and bright in the sky above them; a blanket of stars twinkling silver lights across the great expanse of velvet black; a scar of white cut like a milky ribbon across the heavens, which in turn belched clouds of green and blue into the sky on its borders- creating gaseous colors and pigmented shadows. Will had to stop and take it in, twirling around in awed delight. Never had she seen such a starry night in her own world, and though the hunting grounds of Hircine was an entire world of beauty in its own right, the night sky there was strangely empty of starlight. With a wild laugh, free of worry, she ran in wondering abandon- through fields of gold, wheat grown untended, tall as her waist, surrounding her, embracing her as they swayed, dancing delicately in the evening breeze. Her fingers stretching greedily, touching the tufts of tan tall grass as she sped through them, the scent of grain and winter, earth and cold alive in her nose. Defiant patches of vibrant flora grew sporadically among the golden wheat defying homogeneous trendings- puffs of tundra cotton, white and virgin, sacred in the moonlight; and conical tufts of lavender, dense clusters of purple mountain flowers in variegated hues of violet melancholy; small furtive splashes of biodiversity among acres and acres of golden yellow. 

Was it any wonder Whiterun was considered the breadbasket of Skyrim when such a staple grew uncultivated and untended. Will turned in delight to share her appreciation of the view with her stoically silent companion when her eyes locked, led upward by walls of stone and curves of masonry, guided still further toward wooden construct and steepled roofing; Dragonsreach- perched like a beacon of hope high on the towering summit of the city of Whiterun. The Hall was lit- most likely by some magical effect- and brilliant golden light seemed to pour from it’s windows a luminescent way point for the wanderer in the dark, to lead the weary soul home. Will was spellbound. Vilkas was smiling softly as he caught up to her. He turned to take in the view that so captivated her.

“Farkas and I had similar reactions the first time we saw it as whelps. No matter where you are in the hold you can see the keep from almost anywhere. I’m so used to it I had forgotten how spectacular it could be lit up in the dark.” 

Will had never been one to be so moved by a place before; but something about the keep and the night spoke to her on a spiritual level and she found her eyes welling up with tears. She turned away, resuming her trek through the swaying fields. Vilkas gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before taking the lead once more.

They cut across a vast field heading roughly north and slightly west of the city. In the distance, moonlight painted mountain peaks silver with snowy caps and great forested hills leading toward what she vaguely recalled was the abandoned city of Labyrinthian were dusted in a snowy coat reminding her of powdered sugar. Vilkas was all business as he taught her a few hand signals they would use to silently communicate as they took on the bandits. The two skirted large boulders and rising bits of earth, crouching in the grass to hide from any eyes that could potentially be watching. Vilkas signaled her to halt and then they slowly crept over a final rise before making out the bandit camp. At Vilkas’ command she pulled her bow and nocked an arrow. He did the same. Like wraiths made of shadow and stealth they flowed slowly forward then stopped to take in the camp.

A gate guard in fur armor seemed to be gazing right at them but made no move nor offered no warning. Within the walled settlement Will could see a male dunmer lit up by firelight getting firewood from a stack placed near the gate. As her eyes scanned the structure she could see from her angle on the rise there was a wooden walkway built along the circumference of the wall, allowing patrolling bandits to peer into the valley outside the mining camp should they choose to look. Vilkas loosed an arrow, taking out the guard who was only able to elicit a small gurgle in warning to the camp. It was enough to draw the attention of the mer gathering wood but Will’s own arrow felled him before he too could raise the alarm. 

The two Companions flowed forward, liquid night on footfalls light through shadowed hedge and shrub, leaving the fallen to gather dust from the earthen plains, victims fallen to the unforgiving savagery of a land feral and raw and bereft of mercy. Vilkas pulled out his greatsword, striking down a Nord in Heavy armor in three strikes. Will advanced on a half naked Khajit, dancing drunkenly by the fire. His movements were slow and sluggish as he made to draw his daggers. He managed a half hearted swing before he found himself bashed in the face by her shield and stabbed in the neck and out the kidney, dead with barely a whimper in protest. A male Nord with sword and shield let out an enraged yell charging her from across the camp. Will readied her shield and tightened her grip on her blade; but 2 arrows from Vilkas, fired in quick succession, ended the berserker's charge before he could get close enough to do her harm. 

“Hey, what’s going on? Is someone there?” A groggy voice from above caused Vilkas to curse, his eyes flashing silver in the night as he headed up the wooden walkway. Will kept hidden, crouching low within a small pavilion where food and drink were kept, the wall blocking her from the view of the bandit above. She heard the sound of Steel being drawn and a loud curse followed by the clashing of metal and a quiet gurgle. A loud thump sounded and without thought Will headed out to ensure Vilkas was alright. He was. Grimly he made his way back down the walkway toward her.

“Six and that’s just outside the mine. Be on your guard sister, who knows how many we may find in the mine.” Once again he took the lead. Will cringed when he called her sister. Is that what she was to him? All she could be to him? As Will followed the great warrior in front of her into the darkness she sincerely hoped not. The things she was hoping to do to him were not the things a sister would do. She grinned, shaking off the twinge of disappointment. It was probably just a Companion thing and she was reading too much into it.

As they crossed the threshold between the surface and the underworld, sliding between two great wooden doors and rustling past some red and green ferns grown thick on the border between moonlight and shadow, they stepped carefully over thick brown roots stretching and expanding down the walls and over the floor of the mine shaft. The scaffolding they passed looked freshly cut, strong and sturdy, and Will released a breath she had not known she was holding. An abundance of crates and barrels and kegs, some full of ale and other’s water were indicative of a long term plan to stay. The two Companions moved forward on silent feet with arrows at the ready. Vilkas glancing in askance at her as she casually harvested some of the different mushrooms that seemed to proliferate in the damp and shadowed passages.

Several small red clusters of fly amanita grew, good for fire resistance, a potion to cause a frenzy in the enemy, or- Will’s favorite- to increase stamina regeneration.There were also clusters of white cap and bleeding crown mushrooms. The former could restore or ravage magicka depending on the other ingredients in a potion made with the small delicate shrooms and the latter could make a body easily susceptible to fire and poison or create a moderate resistance to magic. One of the coolest things about Skyrim for Will was the awareness that all items seemed to exist in balance possessing both positive and negative properties rendering the tool or item itself almost neutral, a weapon to be wielded for good or ill by the alchemist controlling its use. 

Will heard grumbling from ahead and took aim as a bandit came into view. Her and Vilkas fired at the same time taking out a Redguard in iron armor. He had a friend who stood and drew his sword. Vilkas charged, slicing him open from neck to navel and the man fell, his leathers having offered no protection. As his red and steaming organs sloshed from his body and his bowels voided Will was startled into a massive expulsion of her meal. Her vomit launched across the mine to puddle against the wall next to the corpse. She hacked and coughed, thoroughly sickened and embarrassed. Vilkas chuckled as he searched the two corpses for a key to the locked iron door.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” Will muttered shakily.

“Neither can I.” Vilkas whispered back, amusement lacing his voice. He passed her as she straightened up her hunched back, once back at full height she took a few deep, calming breaths. She found she had to back away from the dead bandit and turn her head to avoid inhaling the smell and getting it in her mouth which was enough that her stomach seemed to roil once more in warning.

“If you don’t think you can handle it you can wait back at the entrance.” Will frowned, glaring at Vilkas but his eyes were soft. She shook her head.

“It was the sound and the-smell. I’ll be fine. I won’t leave you alone.” Vilkas smiled at her.

“As you wish.” Will’s knees nearly buckled as fire shot clear to her loins. Vilkas stepped back, his nostrils flaring and turned away. 

_ Oh, my sweet Wesley! _ Will thought shakily to herself. If Vilkas only knew the power of that phrase on her libido. 

The shaft through the mine to the lower section led to a large open area that reeked of death and blood, spilled oil and decay. The two Companions shot an arrow into a large Orc in heavy steel plate armor and released another two into him, killing him before they were attacked by three charging bandits. The battle was fierce and Vilkas took on two while Will fought the third. A dark haired woman in warpaint and iron screamed at her hacking furiously with two axes. Slamming one into her shield while trying to hack around the edges to Will's exposed side with the other. Will managed to slam her shield into the woman's chest, pushing her back but doing little damage. Her sword swung through the air a song of metal and fury only to be knocked back by a woman with more skill than Will. A barrage of strikes forced Will to step back and step back again. Will’s weapon arced through the air but once again was blocked as the bandit crossed the handles of her axes and used the added force to shove Will back. Will found herself pressing against a wooden railing with nowhere to go. With a roar she spun her shield out letting it twirl in her hand and the bottom of her shield struck the advancing bandit in the chin knocking her back. Will snarled, running her through with her blade, hilting it through the woman’s sternum with an angry snarl. The bandit looked shocked, hacking up a gob of blood to spray Will’s face. Will withdrew her blade before whirling around and decapitating the woman in front of her. All her rage and hate concentrating in an angry grunt and malevolent intent. As the head flew from the body and the body fell to its knees Will kicked it in the chest away from her before stalking to Vilkas’ side. He was just finishing off a Nord in furs, a second Nord lay prone on the floor. His eyes met hers.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, and you?”

“ Aye. Let’s find this gods be damned heirloom and leave this place.” Will couldn’t agree more.

“What are we looking for?” She queried. Vilkas pulled out a piece of paper showing a rough sketch of an amulet with three gems resting outside a carved goblet symbol that was etched in a metal casing. The two of them searched the pockets of the fallen bandits, Will took the Septims but noticed Vilkas did not. She asked him why he left them.

“Why would I need them? They are dead and I find it distasteful to rummage in their pockets for money. It’s not honorable.” Will stared at him aghast.

“Spoken by someone who has never felt the desperation and fear of wondering where your next meal is coming from or if you will be able to find someplace warm for the night to stay.” Vilkas squirmed under her regard.

“And you have?” He challenged.

“Yes. And I learned that the dead have no need of money but if I want to stay among the living I do. Also Brenuin, Lucia, the other destitute and the homeless, the orphaned and abandoned in other cities across the province. They cannot do what I now can so- yeah, I will loot the corpses of my fallen enemies. I will strip them bare till their balls hang out if I have to, and I will use what I take to make lives better, my own included.” She looked up at her Companion a hurt frown wrinkling her freckled brow. “Don’t judge me too harshly brother. I have been hungry and I have been cold and I have been a stranger in a strange land far from the comforts of home and friendship. I know what it is to go without. I find no dishonor in taking the spoils of the dead.” She continued her task in thoughtful silence. Could this be why Vilkas was not attracted to her? Did he think her dishonorable somehow? Barely a step above a bandit. The thought made her queasy. She admired Vilkas, she loved the idea of being a Companion but she was also ruthlessly practical. Her morals had always maintained a certain fluid flexibility. She had a core code; do good; but within that code were infinite shades of grey that shifted as she navigated through lonely circumstance, adapting and responding to an ever changing world. 

As a foster, she had fought some and defended others. She had lied and stolen when necessity demanded and never lost a wink of sleep over it. She was shaped by the events of her life but not defined by them, but until now she had never questioned if she was a good person. Vilkas’ judgment stung and she realized that it was because she wanted so much for him to like her, for him to reciprocate the attraction she felt buzzing on her skin every time they were together. She loved being in his company, loved making him laugh, fighting at his side. But what if he had been merely tolerating her presence because he was so nice? Kodlak was the one who wanted her to join. Vilkas had been against it from the start. What if what she felt was completely one sided and worse what if he was disgusted by her as a person.

“Found it.” He called from across the room. She trotted slowly to his side. He gestured at a large trunk.

“Take anything else you like then let us return home.” She looked through the trunk. A large gem with many facets seemed to shine and she let out a low whistle. Why had Vilkas left it behind? She picked it up and seemed to feel herself disconnect from reality, a low roar filling her ears as a dual toned voice once heard only in her dreams filled her mind in waves of majestic and dulcet tones.

“A new hand touches the beacon.” Warm and strong they were, genderless twinned vibrations echoing harmoniously inside her head a part of her yet not her. “Listen.” The voice snapped, commanding, uncompromising. ”Hear me and obey. A foul darkness has seeped into my temple. A darkness that you will destroy. Return my beacon to Mount Kilkreath. And I will make you the instrument of my cleansing light." A lightness of heart filled her and Will gazed down at the jewel she clutched in amused horror. Meridia’s beacon had just made her it’s champion. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about! There were a few septims as well as some gold and amethyst coins that Will was certain had not been in the Vanilla game. She pocketed them anyway. As the two of them silently poked around the large space full of mammoth tusks and snouts and pools of blood, some fresh and wet and some dried and hardened from the great beasts neither seemed inclined to break the awkward silence that had risen up between them. Will grabbed a tusk and put it in her enchanted bag to give to Ysolda. A small golden chest was hidden behind a series of broken shelves but it seemed enchanted to thwart lockpicks and without a key Will was forced to leave it though her mind was burning with curiosity as to what could be inside such an interesting chest.

“Come.” Vilkas said, breaking the silence at last. “Our mission is done, let us make haste for home.” With a nod Will followed him out of the mine and back into Skyrim. 

The moons had shifted while they were gone and with full darkness blanketing the land many of the seediest in Skyrim felt it was a good time to stalk the unwary. As the two crossed the field of golden wheat three bandits wielding lightning were able to sneak up on them in the dark. The lightning stung like fire ants dancing along her skin but what it did to Vilkas caused Will’s heart to leap into her throat. With an anguished cry he fell to his knees, his muscles locking in place, his large body always so strong fell twitching to the ground wrapped in a blue cage of arcing electric current..

“Vilkas!” She called in shock. With an enraged snarl she ran one of the wizards through while spinning on the second and slamming her shield into his head. He fell to the ground stunned. The third redirected his full focus on her. The lightning hurt, but she seemed to have a resistance to it as it did not affect her as strongly as it had affected Vilkas. She advanced on the now retreating wizard, his death reflected in her stony visage.

“You’ll die here and I’ll loot your corpse!” He bellowed.

“Not today.” She grunted. Ignoring the lightning raising her sword and thrusting it down into his clavicle, impaling his body down the middle before ripping her blade free. As she turned from his falling body one of the wizards she had hit with her shield was regaining his feet.

“Not today you sonuvabitch!” She leaped into the air ramming her sword into his back, slamming her shield into him as well. He fell to the ground to move no more. Vilkas was rising to his feet, eying her with appreciation.

“How is it the lightning has so little effect on you?” He questioned, wheezing slightly as he straightened.

“I have a high resistance to magic but am unable to cast even the smallest of spells on my own.” Vilkas scoffed.

“Danica said the spell you cast to save my life was one of the most intricate and powerful spells she has ever seen.” Will shrugged.

“Yeah well, _ I  _ didn’t cast it, at least not alone.” His brows shot up.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I had help.”

“From who?” He growled, growing frustrated at her small and wholly unsatisfying answers. Will sighed and looked at him.

“I don’t know. I saw you dying and I didn’t want you to. I asked for help. Someone answered.” Vilkas was silent for a moment.

“You mean like a prayer?” He asked cautiously. Will shrugged.

“If you like, sure.”

“And you have no idea who answered your prayer on my behalf?” It was a statement but he made it sound like a question. Will turned her full attention to him.

“I’m not trying to keep any secrets from you Vilkas. If I knew I would tell you.” He hmmed her way and she stuck out her tongue at him in annoyance as they resumed their trek cross country, back to Whiterun.

“I would consider this with caution, Will. The divines do not often grant boons such as what we were given without demanding something in return.” Again Will shrugged though he could not see her, moving in front of her as he was.

“It was worth it.” He stopped turning to look at her incredulously.

“What price did you pay?” She glared up at him.

“I just told you I don’t know. I don’t know who answered my call for help. I don’t know what the price was if I did I would tell you- why are you making a big deal out of this?” He ignored her question.

“If you don’t know what the price was then how do you know it was worth it?” He argued, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to unravel the mystery of her that just seemed to get deeper and deeper the more he learned about her.

“Because it saved you, you big idiot and it. Was. Worth. It.” Vilkas was flummoxed at her adamant declaration, scenting no guile, no lie. He could smell her hurt back in the mine and he could have kicked himself after practically calling her dishonorable- that was not what he meant. He could smell her subtly building embarrassment and anger just as strongly as he had scented her arousal earlier- that had come from nowhere and thoroughly confused him. But now he could only smell her annoyance and her faith that what she was saying was true. To be honest it moved him deeply. She cared so much, though she knew him so little, that indebtedness with the divine and the potential loss that could come from such a debt did not deter her one bit from her adamant belief that what she had done for him had been worth any cost. 

Vilkas was well read, escaping into the pages of both history and prose had often been his chosen past time. History and fiction alike were littered with the ruinous fates of characters chosen by the gods and granted divine boons only to end in tragedy and loss. When Will stated that it was worth it- that he was worth it, for Vilkas it was tantamount to a declaration of intent. Will did not merely feel attracted to him. She cared for him. By her deeds and actions she had modeled that care repeatedly over the short course of their friendship together. His wolf whined inside him as if begging him to recognize something bordering just off the cusp of his understanding. 

The two entered Whiterun deep in the middle of the night and made their way to Jorrvaskr where they parted ways. Will took a long soak in a hot bath before making her way to collapse in her bed. The day had been full of excitement, revelations, adventure and discomfort. Sleep, when it came for her, swept all that aside, gifting her with a blanket of darkness that claimed her well into midday. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some images of the new and improved Wilahelamina Jones
> 
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_BiPbjKDPGg9gY1ybv1pPUgBRVkFC6gm/view?usp=sharing  
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SsU4Es24eyhdCK5DZXadH9PrGNRDY072/view?usp=sharing  
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1O9X7RyTTv5vp6Lqb9SZM9mBN-RluXMJf/view?usp=sharing


End file.
